Alive

Literally tons of “dead” wood are washed up on the dark beach. But even though these logs are no longer producing needles or leaves, they are definitely alive. I know, because the first log I see is a woman’s torso—a decorative chain just above her slender hips. A mermaid’s wavy hair lies next to her, as does an uneven tortoise shell made of bark.

Cave paintings of dancers wildly swaying to and fro offer a lively narrative to any passerby.

A log evocative of animal skin makes me question the existence of spotted zebras. I rein myself in, deciding it looks more like harbor seal fur.

Worms have created hieroglyphics on a log stripped of its bark. I know they are trying to communicate to me, but I can’t understand their scribbles no matter how hard I try. One log has its limbs chopped off. It holds its stubs out imploringly—its gaping mouth echoing a hollow howl. Another tree’s bark is peeled away to reveal a pattern akin to the nest of a paper wasp—fibrous and curving.

Lastly, I come across a log that appears to be rippled, like the nearby river. Water has carried these logs here to rest together and tell their stories to anyone willing to listen. I am.

All photos © Sondra Sula.

One Person CAN Make a Difference

“Phlox with Henryii” by Sondra Sula

“Jesus in the Garden” by Sondra Sula

“Phlox with Bee” by Sondra Sula

I often think about how much difference one person can make in the world: Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Mother Teresa. But what about little ol’ me?

Then I glance out the window and see a plethora of phlox in my flower garden and realize that I can and do make a difference in the world.

Years ago I was mesmerized by a pale pink flower edged in dark pink at a local nursery and lifted the plant identification marker to read: phlox. I innocently planted it at the feet of Jesus—a piece of cement statuary lovingly transported from the Florida Keys to northern Illinois in the backseat of our Ford station wagon, and then hoisted into the backyard garden.

“Backlit” by Sondra Sula

“Striations” by Sondra Sula

Fast forward to today’s garden filled with hundreds of phlox of every hue between white and violet. The plants are so tall I can’t even see the crown of Jesus’ head, much less his feet. And the diversity in pattern is astounding thanks to the many insects involved in the cross-pollination process. All of this exuberance and vibrancy from one tiny plant.

As I stroll through this garden (perhaps struggle through the tangle is more apt) I’m aware that I am like that original pink picotee phlox. Nourished by the natural world—sun, sky, flora, fauna—and blessed by the light of Christ, my little Gratefulness Walks are spreading out beyond the borders of my mind into the tangible realm. Making one person’s life a little brighter spreads out to touch another and another until fresh gardens of joy lighten every dark place.

“Cross-Pollination at Work” by Sondra Sula