Spilt Wine

I was taken back by the number of Redwood trees that lined this long winding road Gracie and I walked along. The road seemed to go on forever through the Sierra Nevada wilderness. The green of the tress, the blue of the sky, the red of the sunset, the smell of pine needles and campfires were all so vibrant, it was like a smack to the face. Gracie appeared to be fascinated by the redwood trees. I too became fixated upon the trees myself. I began to wonder if I could possibly ever have contact with as many people as there were trees along this road. Then it hit me, how much this road Gracie and I were walking along was like the road of life that we all travel on. As for the trees, when I looked at the small tress, I could not but help think of some of those people who left an impression within my life, yet were only apart of my life for a brief moment. And the big trees, of all the people who are apart of my life or were for longer periods of times, who have influenced me in some way for the better. And the dead trees, that were few and scatter amongst the healthy trees, who have left scars upon my heart. Who have hurt me in such ways that have left lasting affects. My wilderness is full of small and large trees, scattered amongst them are those dreaded dead trees, which should be cut down, but my forest would be incomplete without them.  

When you've suffered a great deal in life, each additional pain is both unbearable and trifling. My life is like a memento mori painting from European art: there is always a grinning skull at my side to remind me of the folly of human ambition. I mock this skull. I look at it and I say, "You've got the wrong fellow. You may not believe in life, but I don't believe in death. Move on!"The skull snickers and moves ever closer, but that doesn't surprise me. The reason death sticks so closely to life isn't biological necessity- it's envy. Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive love that grabs at what it can. But life leaps over oblivion lightly, losing only a thing or two of no importance, and gloom is but the passing shadow of a cloud. - Yann Martel, Life of Pi

I took Gracie back to the oak tree last night. This time, we went a lot earlier in the evening. The Sun had just started its descend in the west, giving way for the moon that would be arriving for his evening shift above the valley floor. The sky was a much different picture last night compared to the scorched red sky from the night before. The sky was a clear baby blue, with mountain thunderstorm clouds broken up and spread across the sky. You could see the arch of the sky formed by the earths round atmosphere, making it look as if the highest point of the sky was right above your head. We stood in the shade of the tree, feeling the breeze that was blowing eastward. Gracie’s hair danced in the breeze as I stood there holding her, not saying anything, and looking towards the west. Not much is said during these evening walks, but I feel that my love for her is clearly communicated. I want to show her so much and teach her everything I have learned. Right now I am content with showing her the oak tree and the valley sunsets.

Gracie has had a cough for the last four days or so. Nothing to be worried about, the doctor said it is just a little cold. I sure know how I feel when I have a cold, I feel crummy. It’s to bad that at only 14 weeks old, she has already learned that life does not always feel good.

Last night I found a place of serenity. I took Gracie for a walk; it was one of those hot summer evenings, where the sky had been torched red from the blistering heat of the day. The sun had pretty much set in the west when we came to an old oak tree. The oak tree is right next to a ditch that runs along a runner’s path. It stood mighty and tall, giving shade to the dried up ditch bank. We just stood there under the tree looking to the west, as the sun disappeared before our eyes. Before long, Gracie had fallen asleep on my shoulder.

There is something about big trees that give a sense of comfort and peace. Maybe it is because they grow upwardly with their branches reaching towards heaven as an act of worship to their Creator. Or, is it the strength of the tree and its ability to weather so many storms. Or, could it be because they are a product of Gods creativity. I guess it is all of those things and probably more.

When Gracie is older, I think I will hang a swing from that tree for her.

The irony of life is proof enough that God has a sense of humor.