Susan LaffertyEarly morning dark.
Dawn, only a whisper
in the air.
We walk. Step by step.
Following a road
to the place of tombs
and death.
Slow in sorrow.
Wrapped in the fog
of grief.
Not looking for the living
among the dead.
A divided heart leads to ruin. Fragmented loyalties weaken resolve.
Consider Solomon. Wise beyond his years. Or anyone else’s.
The divine instructions are detailed. Laid out so clearly. In two recorded encounters with his Maker. (1 Kings 3 and 9)
But he fools around.
Taking careless, measured steps.
Away from wholehearted devotion.
Winter trees. In crisp air at dawn. Stark. Branches bare. Empty.
The fog drifts in.
As I walk in fading darkness, I think about friends and family members who are suffering.
Standing weary. In the fog of impossible circumstances. Living with ongoing crisis. Conflict. Some with never-ending pain.
Cold and unrelenting winds whip through the lives of these loved ones.
And I ask how to pray.
What is His way for trees in winter?
