dead grass glows

Black ice settles into slush sputtering up from the heels of 18 wheelers. Endless asphalt with frost heave beats out a steady rhythm. Stubble strewn fields highlight the stark farms clinging tentatively on their edges. The silhouettes of empty shade trees hug the homesteads, grouped as if for warmth. Only the dead grasses lend color to the landscape, charging the view with miraculous radiance. The ability to glow while sheathed in ice speaks volumes. The whisper of beauty shouts from bird’s nests tucked in high branches, promising spring. Beauty sings from the glint of light laughing through the cracks in weathered barns. She dances on the wings of stalwart geese heading south. She trips across the puddles frozen in the fields, laughing as the ice cracks. The occasional red glow of cardinal or blueberry bush buds is almost too beautiful. The touch of God who can create such stunningness out of the most austere vibrates around us pilgrims.

Yet mans’ touch is here too. The billboards claw at God’s horizon. “Show Girls”, “Peek Shows”, “Adult Pleasures”, “Hooters”, “Barely legal” scream ghoullike from their metal pedestals.  Free speech gone amuck, the images pretend excitement, satisfaction, and escape. The frozen smiles hide the blatant truth. 99% females don’t do this by choice. They are lied to, lured, kidnapped, drugged, stolen, sold. Human trafficking has sky rocketed to a demonic 27 million souls world wide. Staggering figures made even more bitter as  millions of the victims are children.

I meditate on the sweet line of starlings huddled on a telephone wire. And the way even mist can be stunning gathered along the edges of the wold. God is amazing to keep showing His Love, day in, day out in such myriad ways. Unchanging. Absolutely reliable. Whisper’s of God’s Word remind me that His Promises, His Commitments, His Commandments are also unchanging. There is nothing God hates more than injustice. And He has only one tool placed on earth to show the love it takes to work Justice. That tool is us humans, willing to be broken hearted about the issue of injustice. Broken and turned towards Him for direction. Broken and turned towards Him with our small loaves and fishes. Broken and then touched by the miracle when He uses us to work Justice.

Dead grass sheathed in ice glows. Stubble filled fields speak of promise. Colors shout God’ glory. We can too.