By Magdalena I. García
A stump…
cut off, lacking, truncated
apparently dead.
A stump…
a placeholder, a marker, a remnant
apparently discarded.
A stump…
exiled, bereft, deprived
apparently extinguished.
But all is not lost
there are still roots.
from which new life can emerge.
The past that you clearly see
is no longer retrievable,
but the future that you can’t imagine
awaits buried within you.
Can you embrace a tomorrow
rooted in yesterday
but shaped by today?
~ * ~ * ~
A fig tree
budding, sprouting, growing
apparently alive.
A fig tree
a shoot, a stem, a branch
apparently relevant.
A fig tree
flowering, blossoming, flourishing
apparently growing.
Surely all is not lost
there are still buds
from which new life is emerging.
The past that you clearly see
is no longer retrievable,
but the future that you can’t imagine
awaits buried within you.
Can you embrace a tomorrow
sustained by yesterday
but defined by today?
~ * ~ * ~
The challenge is to live Advent,
and everyday of our lives,
as a stump with living roots,
as a branch with thriving buds.
The challenge is to live Advent,
and everyday of our lives,
as a season of deep longing and active waiting.
The challenge is to live Advent,
and everyday of our lives,
praying and working for God’s future,
and knowing all along
that it is indeed drawing near:
emerging from stumps
and bursting through new shoots.
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