Looking out from my back porch this morning I notice how the recent dusting of Spring snow accentuates the burned trees. The mountain behind my home had succumb to an out of control wild fire about a year and a half ago. Its reminder shall remain for years and years. However, prior to this Spring strom, Winter's snow had receeded and revealed the wonder of undergrowth. The charded mountain side has welcoming greens popping up. What a beautiful thing to focus on, the new life, but today my focus seems to remain on the burned trees. They resemble used match sticks stuck into a scarred side. Every now and then I see a small patch of trees which some how avoided the scorching invader. I wonder if those who survived ask why or simply say, "whew." Maybe those who didn't survive are the ones who ask why or shout, "you damn lucky ones." Or, does nature have a knowing, a hope, a faith, a trust that its great Mother Nature, its great God will and is renewing, restoring, reincarnating. I look down upon my own scarred, missing body and asked myself, "do I have a knowing, a hope, a faith, a trust?"
"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."