I walked outside early this morning to check out how the garden liked yesterday’s rain. It was still windy, and like a new mom, I worried for the little seeds I had sown during the week. But generally, children are supple and resilient. In fact, my own little “babies” had loved that cold rain and were doing fine.

I remember being supple and resilient myself. Not that I’m fragile these days, but working in the garden revealed a few changes. I had to stand up regularly to ease the pain in my knees; walking on the uneven ground takes just a wee bit more care than it used to; garden gloves, a big hat, sunglasses and long sleeved shirts are a must. I think the days of physical labor from early morning to late evening are behind me now.

As I stood quietly admiring our handiwork and God’s prodigal design for life, I listened to the sounds made by the huge trees that surround our yard. Most are just now beginning to bud out, and together it looks like a huge wad of pale green gauze has been caught in the top of the trees. This is not primal forest, but these beauties are old by my standards — many have stood out there for at least two hundred years.

In the wind they sway slowly back and forth. And they creak loudly. They aren’t fragile yet, either, but their creaking speaks of changes afoot. Little saplings don’t creak in the wind. For all of life, change is the name of the game. Without it, there would be no concept of “life” at all. Existence would be dull and repetitive to the point of madness, with no way out. Change means surprise, creativity, beauty.

The “prime” of life isn’t just one segment of one phase of being — it’s the whole thing, from the birth of the Universe some thirteen billion years ago to this moment and beyond. Wow.


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