I woke up Tuesday to the sound of heavy rain and earth quaking thunder. It seriously sounded like Umpa Lumpas were being beaten with those slap wrist bracelets from back in the day. (alright, bad analogy #45907) So it’s raining and thundering, the wind is blowing and leaves are flying, trees are howling, small children begin to take flight…you get the point. It was as if I was listening to a symphony and it was right at the pinnacle of their performance when…it just decides to stop. The wind dies down. The rain stops falling. Those flying kids came back to orbit- it was the calm after the storm. I wish I could tell you that everything returned to normal and that everything was alright to begin with but that’s just not so.

You see, I’ve been living at this house since August. In that time, I’ve had several occasions where I just stand and stare at this bush in our back yard. It’s never been particularly beautiful or eye catching. To be honest, I’ve often wondered why it was even there. This bush looks so helpless and out of place at our house. But after the rain and wind simmer down, this very bush is the only thing that has my attention. Something about it has captured my eyes. Obviously something about it captured my heart as well because this would be a pretty lame story to tell if I ended here.

I had always looked at the bush and seen the usual greenery with patches of brown and occasional colors but nothing too far fetched. It was just another bush on yet another piece of dirt mound. Well, after the wind had blown and the rain poured, this very bush stood strong with many of its beautifully bright reddish-pink peddles on the ground all around it. And for whatever reason, I can’t take my eyes off of this scene.

I can’t help but look at those peddles and wonder what could have been. I can’t help but look at those peddles and relate myself. Because, to be honest, I often feel like that bush looks. On the outside I’m doing fine but on the inside I’m having a funeral for all those peddles that just fell off me in the wind of the storm. It’s as if, with each dying peddle I say goodbye to what could have been. I suppose that’s just the pessimist in me.

For the optimist in me, it’s like saying goodbye so I can be introduced to the new peddles and begin to cultivate in the new what the old can no longer use. Yeah, I’m saying goodbye to the old to usher in the new.

Isaiah 40:6-8
6A voice says, “Cry out.” And I said, “What shall I cry?” “All men are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field. 7The grass withers and the flowers fall, because the breath of the LORD blows on them. Surely the people are grass. 8The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God stands forever.”