Only a Cross in the Weeds
A few years ago I put this old cross together from posts from our old corral - long torn down. This stands among weeds mostly unnoticed but being unnoticed does not diminish the power of what this old cross means. It is held together by barbed wire, a sort of crown of thorns. At the base is another old post for a place to bring our burdens and lay them there. In the ground the cross is upon is buried a lot of my memories: scrapbooks, trophies, books, fishing equipment, articles belong to my deceased mother and father. It makes sense to me -the cross in the weeds - to bring all of your life and bury it with the cross. My life is hid there is Jesus; it is not just a few old corral posts, some barbed wire in a weedy field - it the emblem of hope for me and others for all eternity.