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“I’m taking my camera and heading to the woods,” Gérard said as the first hint of light appeared through our window. “I’m going with you,” I replied. We bundled up and quickly got on our way so as not to miss the sun peaking up through the trees.
We were treated to a winter wonderland like we’ve never seen before. Feathery crystals shimmered on every branch and blade of grass, backdropped by a flawless sky. Without a breath of wind to disturb it, nature had exercised her craft overnight, weaving 2 centimeters of shimmering artistry onto the surface of everything in sight.
The rising sun gradually enlivened the shades of mauve into sparkling vividity. My husband set his camera into action while I breathed in the beauty, posed a little, and lifted my soul in praise to the Artist who had fashioned this scene. Praise to the Lord the Almighty, the King of Creation! Surrounded by pristine exquisiteness, my soul just had to sing.
My thoughts flew to Isaiah 40, fresh in my mind from the course I’d recently completed. Who has measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, or with the breadth of his hand marked off the heavens? (Is 40:12) This Vast Creator had visited my world that night and had delighted in putting his brush to our little woods so it would sparkle in the morning sun.
I drew up close to a frosted branch to admire the artistry of millions of interlocking crystals, a featherweight sent floating to the ground by the mere brush of a finger. Who has understood the mind of the LORD, or instructed him as his counselor? (Is 40:13) Such attention to detail. Exquisite creativity. My heart was filled with gratitude for the beauty of the scene, and for how it spoke to me of the unfathomable depth and goodness of God’s character.
Vast creation paired with diminutive handiwork. The contrast embodies one of the great mysteries of faith. I am amazed that the One who envisioned the heavens would take an overnight stroll through our woods to create a living art gallery out of tiny crystals. And my mind can hardly contain that this same One, while overseeing a vast eternal plan, would tend to the needs of the heart of one woman who tries her faltering best to do life well.
Trees shimmering under the early morning sun will keep that truth resonating in my spirit for a long time to come.
|Shimmering Artistry||Cropped Tree||Hoar Frost Morning|
|All photos © Gérard de Smaele|
Work of His Hands
|Spiritual refreshment page|