Our Jesse Tree

We gather sticks from the fallen tree. One girl in pajamas and slippers and coat runs back inside. The boy breaks a branch. The littlest girl holds her prized stick high. The parade goes indoors to find a pottery vase.

We rummage around in boxes, then return to the cold outdoors to dig in the dirt. Our dying stems need to be supported or else they flop and spin.

The sap still tries to run up these green boughs. The flow doesn’t allow a clean break. The sticks tear apart. The shreds of bark are underneath the dirt now. They don’t show, but the brittle end begins.

Life cannot return to these in the jar, but maybe what hangs from the branches will bring life to us.

Printed paper cut and pricked to hang from dying boughs. Ink blotted and colored to remind us of the promise in a story begun ages ago…

And there shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse, and a Branch shall grow from out of his roots: And the spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the Lord. (Isaiah 11:1-2)

(Ornaments from A Glorious Coming)

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I promised pictures of our homestead. I haven’t forgotten. My computer didn’t survive our move, so Dylan has been working to restore my hard drive.