Mystery of Love


 

This morning saw a heavy, heavy frost. This week and the cold weather have brought the final farewell to all the flowers. In my backyard I had the good fortune to say goodbye to the last rose of 2020. In the morning light, covered by a thin coat of ice, I am not sure my roses were ever more beautiful than they are in this, their final day.
As I took this picture, I heard the haunting words and melody of a song of the Advent season begin to play in my head:
Lo, how a Rose e'er blooming
From tender stem hath sprung!
Of Jesse's lineage coming
As men of old have sung
It came, a flower bright
Amid the cold of winter
When half-spent was the night
This Flower, whose fragrance tender
With sweetness fills the air
Dispels with glorious splendor
The darkness everywhere
True man, yet very God
From sin and death He saves us
And lightens every load.
Once again I am reminded of the mystery of the incarnation. This life born at Christmas is our life. This life born at Christmas is the very life of God. I’m glad I don’t have to understand it, for I never could. But I can believe it. And I believe it because I have experienced God’s love through it. And love is like that. We don’t understand love, we just embrace it and share it and let love work loves magic.
Peace.

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