Stepping out my sliding door, I hear the eagles chatter. One perches itself atop my neighbor's tree, the other I can not see. They are hunting, working together to circle their prey.
The air is brisk, the sky blue; all a stark contrast to yesterday. As I run through my neighborhood, I see the damage left by the storm. It's power was terrifying; homes and properties were destroyed.
A massive evergreen tree lost a 20 ft branch and it hung precariously on a wire overhead. I pray the wire doesn't snap as I run by. The road is peppered with smaller branches. I watch each step I take.
The rising sun whispers through the morning mist rising off the field. The mighty oak, which once stood regal in the field, was broken. The storm had proven too much and snapped a large section which now lay on the ground. I stop. I notice the irony.
The delicate grasses are unscathed.
The mighty oak lay broken.
They both weathered the same storm.
Had you asked before the storm had hit, I would have bet the delicate grasses would snap in the 60 mph winds, not the mighty oak.
My contemplation turns to people. The expectation of the strong to be stronger. Life's storms seem to leave no mark, when quietly they weather to a breaking point. No one expects the strong to lay broken or the delicate to stand strong. Yet they do.
Uncertain of how, I feel it all ties in to our sermon last weekend. Grace. Grace upon grace. In the season where it's easy to get caught up in everything but the important, grace can make the difference. The strong who don't appear to need it yet in truth, may need it most.
May we offer grace to the weathered. The mighty oak or the delicate grass, we all face the storm.
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