He makes the world the joy that it is.
Fall is moving gently in on us. The days are still a warm, Texas 84 degrees, but coolness nips the air at night, and the leaves on the trees are drifting from the branches, color splashed across them with a scarlet paintbrush.
I read a poem today, a verse that reminded me of something I had written last fall, inspired by the same sights. But somehow the writer was affected differently.
I looked at the trees, saw the green leaves and how they turned to red, then the red that had faded to brown and were turning to dust beneath my feet. I saw our lives, saw God giving us his glory, emblazoning us with crimson and gold, then letting us fade. Pain and brokenness took its turn, and we fell from our glory to the ground, and were crushed. But! It was only to be lifted again, pulled from the ground into the life of the tree, and with advent of spring, a newer, greener leaf upon its branches.
I don't think this other author saw it that way, they saw it instead as a life, green, then gold in glory, then falling into death. It had no resurrection, no life, only a hope for glory before death.
Here is mine.... a song entitled...
Color MeThe leaves are turningI don't know how I can keep goingWhen all of my life keeps flowing... out of meBut life would not be the sameWithout the seasons and the change'Cause I could not give my life awayColor meColor me newIn the crimson of your bloodIn the golden of your loveTill I fall, dried and brownAnd I sink into the groundThe wind is stirring.It's rustling, and I knowYes, I know that I'll keep running'Cause you are holding out your heartAnd I strain to grasp your arm'Cause I want to give my life awayColor meColor me newIn the crimson of your bloodIn the golden of your loveTill I fall, dried and brownAnd I sink into the groundCopyright 2007 TheGreatInterference
To follow, here is the poem from poetry.com's Collected Whispers.
ArrivalKissed by the chill,The greens turn golden and radiate in sunlight.Like peaks in the ocean,They disappear and reappear in union with crisp breezes.It has arrived in full,Never to turn back.It is painfully gripping, refreshing,And aching with despair.So much vivid color before dying.It touches all,A channel by which to ascend,Or by which to fall.Oh, that the soul display such color in the end.Greg C. Fraley
It's a lovely poem, isn't it?
May you all be wonderfully blessed!
P.S. I posted an update on our band's blog, including how our concert went.:)