Word count: 100
written for Rochelle's Friday Fictioneers
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Letter to No Lycidas
No Lycidas are you, my son, no watery bier nor desert grave holds you. But in the crisp of autumn air, your countenance lights a distant town, another’s home a place where you from me remain. Yet I wonder, pray one day I’ll see you striding back to see me here; that one day that old mailbox will find you on a daily chore or whether the woods beyond will gape to hear your lusty songs of praise to the God of miracles and a Son who freeing the soul from evil design heals faultless the sutures of the mind.
Prostrated by the summer’s heat, we cannot always see the fruit that is being produced on a vine. Just so, cast down by our sufferings, it’s hard to see the fruit God is producing in us. Even so, Lord God, we pray, let it all be to your glory! Amen.
Broken shadows across the cracked ground your grave day lost in flurried words like September leaves across yesterday’s hallowed ground grief yet uninterred: you six years gone from my sight till Day breaks.
Psalm 103 Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name! 2 Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits, 3 who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, 4 who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy, 5 who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.
Maybe it’s just that the camera angle caught it just right, but these viburnum leaves seem to form a perfect cross and mid-center, flowering buds. Can our daily crosses be thus, as roads to the heart of hope realized and yet to be realized? I suppose it’s all in where we place our faith, or rather in whom, the One who bore a cross for us and walks the cross-roads with us.
What we wouldn’t do to have a steadfast friend, true and faithful through the seasons of our life. Sometimes those who seem most frail in our eyes to share the storms of life prove to be the most true and steady, bending with the winds and holding strong where others break.
This tree has stood on the periphery of our walks through early spring, summer and now at autumn’s slow appearance. It never allows us to pass without acknowledging it, standing alone as it does, but somehow reassuring, like a cross on a hill. Whereas the Cross bears testimony to an eternal significance and a love eternal, this little tree somehow reminds me to take the temporal at the pace of eternity, one day at a time, knowing He whose eyes are on the sparrow watches over me and holds tomorrow in His loving hands.
So let us be, steadfast and true to Him, trusting, one day at a time.