Entangled!

The Palo Verde became the Arizona state tree way back in 1954.  When we hike through the mountains or drive the Arizona highways, we see the landscape sprinkled with Palo Verde trees.  They are not very big; maybe reaching thirty feet high with small trunks of up to two feet. Their wispy leaves barely cast a comforting shadow. They are hardy, though, due to their deep root system that reaches far below the desert floor into water reserves. They seem to be perfectly suited to their surrounding and put on quite a show for us in the spring when their green trunk and branches become a backdrop for a full head of bright yellow flowers.  But they don't always stay that way.



      Some of the Palo Verde trees become an unwitting host to the delightful and festive mistletoe.  What is not to like about mistletoe?!  It is innocent and inviting during our Christmas holidays, and many young couples intentionally stand beneath it for the coveted holiday kiss.  But, to the beautiful Palo Verde, the mistletoe becomes the kiss of death.  Mistletoe can't live alone: it has to have a host.  So, when birds have eaten the small white berries of the mistletoe, they position themselves on the green branches of the Palo Verde tree and excrete sticky mistletoe seeds that grow into a parasite and leech water and nutrients from its host.  It was dispiriting when we found out from one arborist guide that it is almost impossible to save the Palo Verde as the mistletoe sends its roots through the bark and into the very veins of the trees, forever entrenched and ingrained.  If spotted early on, before the mistletoe roots deeply invade, pruning and spraying the infected branches may save the beautiful Palo Verde from a long and untimely demise.


The plant life of the desert had become a great teacher during that hike that day.  Trees are inanimate, or as Webster records, "lacking consciousness;" unable to discern the harmful.  It is not as though they had been ill-advised or even warned and then decided to ignore wisdom. The Palo Verde tree is, simply put, a victim of circumstance.  As a result, they can't reach up and shake loose the unwanted.  But, by George, by the grace of God, on that hike that day, we knew we were animate - possessing a mind and courage. Of course, like the Palo Verde tree, we are likely hosts.  Lots of things can light on us and in us.  Things that can tangle right through our thoughts and hearts and penetrate deep into our life veins. If we don't want to host, we can dispel or loosen.  If we want to host, we can give permission.

Whatever lights in or on us this new year, we are not victims of circumstance.  We can decide to dwell on and host the good or loosen and dispel the bad.
We just can't deny that all of God's creations are master teachers.

Keep Looking Up....something is trying to land!
   Jim and Linda

The Light House

 
On one of our many walks through Riobamba, Ecuador, through all types of neighborhoods, we came across this house.  It was situated on a corner lot with a little bit of land in the back and on the side.  The side grounds looked as though someone had planted a garden months ago but had never come back to harvest it. The roof was in bad need of repair.  The window frames were decayed and some of the panes were cracked.  We could tell that in its past life, the stucco had been brighter, but months, perhaps years, of neglect displayed a dingy coat of grayish grunge.  Some of the stucco had loosened itself from near the top of the chimney, showing a once strong red brick.  A tall, metal structure cradled a large water tub, a useful reservoir during water outages.   If we tiptoed at the metal fence, we could peak through the windows and into the empty rooms.  A light layer of dust covered the floors and emptiness covered the walls. From our observation, large houses like this one were not common in this Andean mountainous town. We always stopped to speculate who might have lived here.  Strolling slowly past the steel fence, we listed possible professions of the owner: lawyer, doctor, manufacturer, business man, farmer.  We went back there several times to look at the lifeless structure.  We did not want to go inside, and the house did not extend an invitation to come inside.
There is not any light here; it is a dark house.

On the other hand, we often drive by or walk past a house that flashes life and visually communicates, "Come inside for a cup of coffee!"  Some structures actually make us stop because they are approachable. There is spirit and color externally, so there has to be a sprightliness and life story internally.  We are drawn. The shade trees cast a long shadow from either a setting or rising sun and the window panes reflect a clean sky.  The gold and red flowers are fully-budded and trimmed.  There is a fence, but even that is not an impediment to the invitation this house extends to the passerby.  Who resides here that they maintain such comfort and solace for all to freely observe?  There is light here. This is a Light House. 

 

 We are little houses. As we enter 2013, may we be the Light House  - approachable, offering a life story that explains the reason for the spirit and solace that lives within us.

 

 

Happy New Year!

 

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