The trees were dancing. Up and down Kitten Creek they bent low, bowed, then rose to reach for the heavens. We stood in wonder at the beauty and elegance of those magnificent creations as their supple trunks and limber arms matched the beat and rhythm of the wind.
Wilder and wilder came the beat. Stronger and stronger the music, until it grew to a frenzy of wind and rain and the sound of whooshing leaves and groaning limbs and trunks.
“We are trying to keep the beat; we are dancing to the music,” the trees moaned as they leaned to the earth and snapped up with a lurch. Beauty and grace became a desperate attempt at survival as the storm increased.
And then . . . devastation. No longer able to withstand the strength of the wild, untamed storm, some of the weaker giants lay down their limbs, their trunks, and life. The farm was littered with those once dancing creations.
Wonder turned to sorrow.
Too much: too much wind, too much dancing and it grew into chaos.
I like to dance, also. There is a certain rhythm of civilization that can bring joy and celebration to my heart. When I was young, it was easier. The beat was smooth; there were no jerks, twists, or surprises. The Judeo-Christian foundation gave our culture a beat that was based on reason, morals, and basically, Reality.
Today, as I watched the trees dance into oblivion, I thought of all the humans caught up in the howling wind of deconstructionism, gender confusion, and lack of any solid reasoning, and I prepare for the sorrow of seeing my world littered with broken people.
Oh, Father, breathe your Spirit into this broken world. Restore Reason, Truth, and Love into its chaos.