In a field behind the house where my grandparents used to live, my Nana would take us to see a dead tree that was still standing. It felt like an adventure, an exploration. On pretty Spring days, two young girls with their grandmother, would venture into the great unknown to discover a treasure that no one knew about. In reality, we probably walked no more than 50 yards from the end of their back porch to the foot of the tree. When we reached our destination, we froze in mouth-opened awe. (I wonder now how much time Nana was trying to "kill" with this great adventure.) There it stood with a sense of self and uniqueness. Its frailty unmatched by the surrounding greenery, its trunk wearing thin and the leaves browned and crackly. The dead tree looked tired and worn. Its branches pointed upward as if to say, "I've done all I can in this life, I have nothing left to give." We looked on at it with such wonder. What did it mean to us to be in the presence of something that was no longer alive, yet stood here in front of of our very eyes? It was a mystery to us - this dead tree. A mystery beyond our understanding that pulled us back again and again. "Let's go see the dead tree!" As if it were the only one of its kind.
And so each time we went, we paused in wonder and disbelief. Unknowingly considering the connection between life and death. Unaware of our burning desire to understand the mysteries that filled the world around us.
Mysteries and questions about life….about death….about resurrection… that continue to call me out on pretty Spring days for an adventure, an exploration - a journey to find God.