She is like dry scrub in the wastelands: if good comes, she has no eyes for it, she settles in the parched places of the wilderness, a salt land, uninhabited.
Rather be like the one who has eyes for the good, true goodness at the heart of it all.
With the Lord for her hope ... She is like a tree by the waterside that thrusts its roots to the stream: when the heat comes it feels no alarm, its foliage stays green; it has no worries in a year of drought, and never ceases to bear fruit.
(Jeremiah 17: 5-9)
Oh that I could really trust in the goodness of God this day!
Don't let me settle in the dried out places, where nothing prevails.
Help me notice the spring dressing the trees anew, inviting us into the time that is now.
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Farewell
We never want to let go of them, those we love. How could it be any different than that? We loved them, hold them still ...
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