The Messenger

Dear God,

For the record, you and I are still not on speaking terms.  I wish there was someone sitting at the table I could ask to send this message to you…Oh, wait. Jesus, could you please tell your father….

I love the purple tree in my front yard.  Even when I am so angry I could spit, I am grateful.  It occurred to me that maybe the answer to my temper tantrum is to be grateful for what has been given and not concentrate on what has been taken away.  You and I will still be aware of the losses but we will deal with those later.




In the spring, it breaks out with the same beautiful green buds that all of the other trees have.  After the leaves spread open they start to turn purple from the bottom limbs to the middle.  Then, light green buds turn into purple berries.  
Purple is my favorite color.  
I can’t help but feel that you knew I would live here and get to watch the magic show.  In the fall, the leaves go from deep purple to an iridescent red that lights up with the sky.  It reminds me of fire.


I love my tree.  It is mine.  It has been bent by a storm.  It changes more than any other tree I have ever seen. 
It is beautiful.

I am grateful for the tree in my front yard.  Thank you.

Now go away.

Tashmica

P.S. Jesus, thanks for being the messenger.

2 thoughts on “The Messenger

  1. God. Psh. What does God know? He's a god. Well, THEE God. Now Jesus, He was human. HE can relate. He had bad hair days, I'm sure.

    (Disclaimer: Yes, I know about the Trinity and that they're the same dude.)

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