A neighbor’s downed tree got me thinking.

Last week a towering oak across the street split in an evening of somewhat inclement weather. It was easy to spot the rot that weakened the limb which crashed down, mercifully away from the house.

It felt like I lost a friend, albeit a new one. I have marked the seasons since we moved here, much the way I did in Dallas when a I dubbed the splendid oak across the street The wordless Evangelist.

Season after season, both trees testified to an unseen, predictable “gardener,” reminding me of how powerless I am. But powerless is NOT useless!

A tropical storm is gathering strength and will soon pay the Chesapeake a visit, with a lot of baggage nobody wants. Here’s hoping the power stays on, because we have been warned some trees may go down.

I am a little sensitive to that warning, having seen the neighbor’s tree, and how long it has taken to clear it.

Then I kept thinking: Isaisa on the East coast, Apple fires in California, Murder hornets in somewhere, Hot, hot temps in the west and COVID-19 everywhere, (except Vermont); then, I get my identity hacked.

And this is just in America! In one month.

Could the Lord be clearing His throat, trying to get our attention? Wait. That’s what I wondered two months ago. I kept thinking things couldn’t get worse. (Twelve Weeks of a Pandemic)

They have . . . An oft repeated quote comes to mind:

You can’t run away from trouble. There ain’t no place that far. ~Uncle Remus

I don’t think we can run from God, either.