A closer walk with chickadees and Thee

I can't see the forest for the trees. I can't see the forest as a static entity. The whole forest is in a continuous loop of growth and decay.  The fallen tree is not dead; it is becoming. Can you hear it?

If the tree falls, who hears it?  Who sees it? Who dismantles it, reuses it, recycles it, rechoreographs all the creatures whose existence is entwined with that tree?

There are so many fallen trees in various stages of decay and rebecoming.  As I walk the trail my sense is the tall standing trees contain matter and energy almost equal to the matter and energy in the fallen trees, branches, and leaves.

Is God in the hairy woodpecker, the ruby-crowned kinglet, the chickadee?  Is God's intent in the throwing of a football between two kids missing their front teeth? Or in the smooching of the teenagers in charge of the football kids?

Attended an evangelical funeral recently, and was scolded.  Only those who proclaimed Jesus as their personal savior would skip down the gold-paved streets of heaven. This was a horribly sad time for the family and friends of the deceased. The preaching was so far from my understanding of God, of love and death, of birth and decay, of humility and grace, that I could not hit the trail at the nature preserve fast enough. I needed to trample out some vintage.

Where is the line between the sacred and the smug?  What does God see through a microscope?  A telescope? Does God cherish the lichen with its surprising colors and forms. Does God chuckle when the chickadee hangs upside down on the branch? Does God accept those who wonder, or just those secure in their answers?

© 2013 Nancy L. Ruder

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