Crimson on Branches Bare…Reminders of God’s Love
Picking up my coffee cup, I turned my head to look out the window toward the lower end of our property. There’s an old chestnut tree there, haggard from decades of mountain weather, barely standing, its branches stark against a winter sky. Even though I’m thankful for God’s love, I could relate to those stark branches reaching toward heaven.
From a distance, I could see bright pops of crimson on the bare branches.
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