I am sad that
that old tree
has been broken,
just as an old life
is broken in years.
It was a good tree
and a good life, even in its
old years it was lovely.
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That is as sad as it is true. In our sunset years our earthly tabernacle deteriorates, even as we prepare to receive the resurrection body that will never deteriorate. Once I was carefree about what I ate, and how much, except I watched what it cost. Now I know that the potential “price” of what I eat is not so much measured in money, but in risks and (potential) loss of opportunities to serve God with the physiological freedom i once enjoyed. But it’s been a grace-based journey and the journey is not yet finished — and the destination is the best (Romans 8:28; Luke 10:20). Meanwhile, wha stories that worn-out tree could tell, if it could speak in our language, about all of the birds and bugs that it blessed over the decades. God’s will lasts forever (Isaiah 46:9-11; Revelation 4:11).
Thank James. You put more words to my poem than I could ever think of. Honestly, I was thinking more of the tree than my old age, but thanks anyway. I do have a few more years to go, God willing.