Last week, we were heading west on a road trip through the mountains. Along the way were large tracks of land that had been devastated by forest fires. The many shades of green in the forest were in sharp contrast to the stark charcoal matchsticks that were once trees. We stopped at a few viewpoints to stretch our legs and fill our lungs with mountain air. Among the burnout were bursts of pink. New life announcing itself, the fireweed. Its bright magenta color was an exhibition of hope where everything else was barren. I marveled at it.
I think of the fireweed in my own life that has cropped up in places where I was sure nothing could possibly grow again. It can’t be stopped from taking hold and proliferating. It blazes wherever a forest fire has raged. Be assured that you will experience this phenomenal adaptation. There will be bright places once again. Life returns to the desolation.