You Keep Your Pledge with Wonders, O God Our Savior

Psalm 65 seems suited to the planting of Candicans this morning. The wondrous pine cones crown the second level of branching of this whitish-bluish fir tree.

Also in the Psalm the nothing Catholic hermit reads in the Morning Office: To you all flesh will come with its burden of sin. Too heavy for us,
our offenses, but you wipe them away.

The cones appear as if they would be too heavy for the tender, swaying white-barked upright and the fir's slender, soft-needled branches.

Such is the burden of our sins--too heavy, they are, for us. So to confession the nothing took its body and soul this morning, and the mind explained the latest and most grave sideways cross and the offenses left in the trail of having dragged it around. But the Lord wiped away the fetters of that sideways cross, the sin of it, and all nothing's sins were forgiven in the Sacrament. Just like that!

But the effort must continue, and the Lord provides opportunities for upright crosses to be planted where the sideways cross had absurdly angled itself into nothing's life. Immediately, there was a phone call, requiring firm attention to not allowing another to angle a negativity created by the caller, into nothing's mind and soul. It will be good training not only for nothing, but for the caller, to cease such foolishness.

And one can cut it off, hack up the sideways crosses, without delay. It is within one's immediate grasp, a true and present possibility: a reality. Just do it! Nothing repeats this when confronted with those challenges that come along, as it stands with ax in hand and the sideways cross felled at its feet. Wipe out that sideways cross and any temptation from self or others to reconstruct it, even for a moment.

The burden having been relieved bursts forth wondrous freedom--the kind of relief and resuscitation that breathes fresh air into joy beyond anticipation. It is like looking up at the Candicans' pine cones, with wonder: How do they stand erect like that, on ethereal, shimmer- needled branching--a natural candelabra of pine bulbs, shining morning light?

How do our souls remain erect given the many sideways crosses, except by the supernal strength of absolution--release and relief from the burden of the offense? And part of the wonder is the grace given, then, to retain that freedom, and in strength to actually cease and desist--drop the sin--just do it!

Besides the mole (its status unknown but perhaps deceased by now), the Mary Gardens of Agnus Dei have evidence of what the tree planters this morning said looked like vole holes. Nothing must research voles. If they do damage, how to rid them? While planting the Candicans, after removing Glauca Pendula (suffered from a seeping sap wound), the tree planters discovered an underground wasp nest. It had to be sprayed; the queen is dead, and the followers gave up buzzing breath, as well. Seems a shame, really, but Candicans needed that earth for its roots and nutrients, or the ethereal, shimmery-needled swaying branches could not uphold the crown of light-bulb cones.

The nothing Catholic hermit moves forth in this day, thankful for the rains that watered the gardens, grateful for the release from one more (and a mammoth) sideways cross, freed from sins that God wiped away, now filled with airy joy. In faith, such light air innervates the sentient soul for the stairway to heaven.

You keep your pledge with wonders,
O God our savior, the hope of all the world....
You crown the year with your goodness.
Abundance flows in your steps....

What sideways cross next? How many sideways crosses remain? Does the soul climb each step of the stairway? Or does the sentient soul elevate?

Nothing needs no answers. It views the Candicans cones, and knows God grew them up on those branches, somehow, and somehow the branches support the bulb-cone crown: a pledge of wonders is enough for any nothing.