What I love so much about the trees in my yard is gone, hidden away for months. But like the tree, I fear I may be without fruit. Bare.
I wonder if people see me the way that I see those trees, so full of potential for good, full of life, but yet so secreted away that it can't be seen.
And then I wonder if God sees me that way. Am I the fig tree that did not produce a bite for the Savior?
I pray that my life will bring the fruit that He desires. I can't stand the thought that I could be bare before Him, or devoid of the sign of His beauty to others.
The spring will come, and with it a fresh new look as the buds break forth bringing hope and happiness, the tiny flowers producing the sweet smell and the knowing that soon will come the fruit.
No longer bare.
Let me be fruitful, I am tired of the bleak, the dry, the greyed color. I pray my life would be filled with the color, life and FRUIT again.
Let me no longer be bare.