Wednesday, November 30, 2016

My Chapel of Choice

   This Sunday morning my cathedral is beneath the tall spires of the trees.

   Brown crispy angels are descending from Heaven; spiraling, floating, some in coats of many colors.   The incense of  autumn leaves and earth is setting an air of reverence.  Stained glass leaves of gold, red and green against a clear blue sky are my sanctuary.  A dome of bending branches are like an old time outdoor canopy revival meeting.  Wind whispering and whistling through the pines, as if it were a pipe organ, revives my spirit.

   The congregation of creatures is gathering.  A fellowship of feathered friends, a choir of crickets and a hidden harmony of tree frogs are ready to begin.  There is silence for reflection,  a birdbath for baptism and the sacred, ancient music of birdsong to stir the soul.  A synagogue of devotion to the Source of all things great and small.  One can feel the bless-ed presence of the Pastor in the air.

   There is symbolism here to ponder.  The dogwood tree, the sparrows and what is left of the lily stalks are an inherent reminder of the sacred secrets Nature holds and the divinity and sanctity in all life.  After all, the "Good Book", Torah and scrolls of our ancestors were all made of trees.

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