Only God Can Make a Tree

I've kind of lost my zest for blogging this past week.  We just came back from this fabulous trip to visit my dad and then Yellowstone, but at the moment I don't feel up to sharing the stories of our many adventures.

One thing I can tell you is that visiting Yellowstone is always a visit to heaven on earth for me.  This visit, however, came at the perfect time.  We received some bad news during our trip that really brought us down, but being in the midst of the beauty of Yellowstone was like a spiritual renewal for me.


I was reminded of God's promises.  It's hard to understand why bad things happen and why life can't go on forever and why we have to say goodbye to the people we love the most, but God never promised us a heaven on earth; only in our eternal lives.

The forests of Yellowstone were devastated by a massive fire many years ago.  Much of this devastation is still evident in the park.

Amongst the devastation is the promise of new life.  Trees which sprouted from seeds that were released from pine cones in the heat of a fire.

God's perfect plan.










Amazing beauty surrounded by devastation lets us know that God is always with us and has a plan.

A forest that will not perish, but is brought back to life.

















 

Grandeur and breathtaking beauty given to us by a loving, heavenly Father.

God's promises.

The circle of life.










For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son and whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life.  John 3:16
 
Maybe it's because we live on the near treeless prairie of the high desert of Colorado, but trees represent life to me.  They give me hope.  They are an earthly representation of everlasting life.  They make it easier for me to see the love of our God and the wonderful things he has planned for each and every one of us.  They give me peace.
 
 
I THINK that I shall never see  
A poem lovely as a tree.  
  
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest  
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;  
  
A tree that looks at God all day,         
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;  
  
A tree that may in summer wear  
A nest of robins in her hair;  
  
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;  
Who intimately lives with rain.  
  
Poems are made by fools like me,  
But only God can make a tree.
 Joyce Killmer

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