N.W.BOYER…Christian Author… Looking for the Coming of Christ


I’m not certain what it is about wood. When it is freshly cut, it gives that strange but sweet aroma that is quickly identified as wood. When it is cut, it gradually turns different colors.

I once had a wooden bench sitting on my front porch that was constantly getting rained upon. The golden color slowly turned to grey, but the first color was still there….somewhere. It took hands of skill to restore this old bench to its beautiful patina. Now it sits inside my home as a trophy to that person who carefully rubbed until it shined. He has died, but this dead wood continues to breathe a beautiful life of its own because of his skill and love.

My friend in Virginia is a maker of wooden bowls. When we cut down the hugh tree in front of our house, because we felt the wind might blow it over, he reminded us of this old tree by making a beautiful bowl for my table. (You’ll see it in my slide show with this writing.)

Someday soon my husband will have his own workshop. He’ll turn wooden boxes and show the differences in designs and colors of oak, maple, and walnut. Some woods are hard to find because they have slowly died out in the areas where they were growing by the hundreds. Walnut is one of these woods. We are lucky if we have something made of walnut.

Strolling in the woods is a peaceful thing to do. It is good for the soul and restful to the spirit. When autumn comes, the trees dress in their finest and no one thinks much of the wood…just their leaves. Then winter comes and the wood is once again in its glory. The snow falls softly on the wooden branches.

Winter is a resting time. That is unless the wood is a Christmas tree. We planted over four hundred Christmas trees in Virginia…high on a hill. Those trees had a long time to grow. If they survived, they became back scratchers for the deer and a place for the birds to rest. One short life; then taken to a home to enjoy the beauty of being strung with lights and hearing the laughter of children. Soon, it too will be thrown onto the woodpile to start again the process of decaying in the soil.

Wood…it helps us have rain. Wood….privides us with warmth. Wood….gives us a place to sit and a table to sit around. Wood….covers our head with a home while we sleep in its arms as a bed.
From a little seeds it came. More seeds fall to the ground….float on the waters….and blesses us with more than we can imagine. I am glad for wood.

BOYER WRITES by Nancy Boyer
(Turn on your sound. Click and enlarge. If you do not have a response, right click and open the link.)

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One response

  1. KK

    You’re amazingly creative! I don’t even know how you do it, but it’s all beautiful…like you. šŸ™‚


    October 9, 2009 at 08:12