A New Beginning

One year when I was in college, I lived on the top floor of a lovely old stone house in a residential quadrangle on campus. The window of my room faced east and looked out on the courtyard, in which stood a number of ancient elm trees. The branches of one tree framed my third-story view. During the winter I grew comfortably accustomed to their bare brownness embracing the world.

My surprise was acute one morning in spring when I drew back the curtain to find the tree aglow with loveliness. In the night new leaves had begun to unfurl. The bright morning sunlight was shining through these tiny translucencies, totally transforming my familiar friend. It stood before me fresh and new.

God Did Not Make Earthquakes
June 20, 1977

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