Tag Archives: Grasses

122. Has the luster of the infinite holiness of God ever shone upon your heart and drawn your heart to him? ~Jeremiah Burroughs

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The world is holy.
We are holy.
All life is holy.
Daily prayers are delivered
on the lips of breaking waves,
the whisperings of grasses,
the shimmering of leaves.
~Terry Tempest Williams,
American author and naturalist

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I’ve even seen what seems like daily prayers being offered up from the nodding heads of birthing flowers in the garden.  It’s as if they know to reverence life and its Giver.  For we humans reverence for life sometimes comes through the senses for with them we are able to see, hear, smell, touch, and taste Creation’s pervasive holiness.  Moreover, from a power of perception seemingly independent of the five senses we are able to discern the holiness that exists within the human heart.  And why not?  The human heart is, after all, the Divine’s sanctuary, and as such it is the mystical core from which God operates in our lives. To come into that inner place of holiness is to come “home” in a way for therein croons the voice, soft and sweet, of a loving Father.  If we strive to listen to and obey His still, small Voice, a well within is filled with the mercy, forgiveness, and love needed for us to blossom into a purposeful anointing.  Surely even the angels stand in awe of such as this.

. . . by the power of God, who has saved us and called us to a holy life—not because of anything we have done but because of His own purpose and grace.   ~2 Timothy 1:9   ✝

12. Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, the flying cloud, the frosty light. . . ~Alfred Lord Tennyson

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Yet a few sunny days, in which the bee
Shall murmur by the hedge that skirts the way,
The cricket chirp upon the russet lea,
And man delight to linger in thy ray.
Yet one rich smile, and we’ll try to bear
The piercing winter frost, and winds, and darkened air.
~William Cullen Bryant

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With every north wind that blows the landscape unravels more and more; after each assault the downed foliage leaves in its wake mounting numbers of skeletons bracing themselves for winter’s icy blasts.  In addition the ornamental grasses are drying out and taking on their a wild and tattered look, and yet a few touches of color remain in the leaves and flowers that have yet to be exiled.  Still audible in the “honey’d leavings” of warm afternoons are their faint renditions of the lusty songs of life, but regardless of how sweet the sound of that is, the sands in autumn’s hourglass are running out.  Like all things, it too will come at last to its Sabbath and therein rest until its next appointed hour upon life’s stage.

2. Thy bounty shines in autumn unconfined and spreads a common feast for all that live. ~James Thomson

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Delicious autumn!
My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird,
I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.
~George Eliot, English novelist

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What’s not to love about a season that takes the focus off summer’s calamities by piling delectable hues back on nature’s palette?  It begins after the autumnal equinox when grasses, flowers, fruits, and berries begin weaving fabulous garlands in sacred temples bound by earth and sky.  Then as the days grow shorter, the torrid temperatures of summer lower and chilling winds descend from the north.  The nip in the air they create induces chemical changes in leaves, leaves that become more and more colorful as autumn’s days unfold.  The grand array of their colors conjures up magic shows on woody altars not only in autumnal forests but also in small towns and sprawling cities.  Later in the season blustery winds snap the parchment-like foliage off, and as the leaves fall, they swirl about in little eddies playing like jovial children.  When autumn’s skies are not shrouded by gauzy, gray clouds, they are swept clear revealing brilliance on the “brows of morn” and daytime hours drenched in deep, dreamy shades of blue.  Under such canopies pumpkins appear in fields, soon to be used in fall’s activities and feasts as well as for festive winter banquets.  Plumed grasses shift and sigh in renewed authorship of the ancient hymns of sacred earth making autumn a time to be silent as well as watchful.  As one Celtic teacher put it, Creation is “the grand volume of God’s utterance,” and what a lovely utterance it is!  Whenever and wherever one listens to the Word of God, be it in Creation or Scripture, be it in autumn or the other seasons, it gives the listener carte blanche to fall into a rhythm which calms the mind, soothes the spirit, and sheds light into the fabric of God’s heart.