A browned leaf, resting on the ground in winter,
Holes poked through here and there.
I pick it up and notice
a small heart shape, bearing through to the other side.
It’s me, that leaf.
It’s my son Nick, taken too soon, that leaf.
It’s all of life:
of the tree,
of the roots,
of the leaf itself,
bearing our story.
Holes eaten through,
or perhaps poked by a stick,
leaving us weary, worn and wounded,
resting on the dirt,
waiting for a gentle hand to pick it up,
and notice its heart.
Pondering Christ 
Thank you for your for this. I see it as pierced. Mary and Jesus were pierced and so it is with us. Life pierces us and its hurts for sure. Our loving God transforms it.
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Thank you, Fran. That’s lovely and so true!
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Thank you Tina. Nicely Done.
Sent from the all new AOL app for iOS
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