Plant your Pinecones by Jamie Palmesano
Have you ever received a text that tugs at your heart? You read a few lines. And, stop. You are captured by the weight of what was just said. I received a message from a sweet lady who lives in Missouri, but won’t be able to visit Estes Park this year because of COVID. The paragraph that arrested my attention read, “Will you please do me a favor? Next time you are hiking, will you please pick up 4 or 5 pinecones, and mail them to me? I’ll plant them here at my house.” This was such a simple yet profoundly beautiful request to me. It touched me deeply. Earlier in the morning, I had been sitting in the dirt pulling weeds. I thought about how many weeds had grown in my heart. I considered the fallowness of my soil. I reflected on what’s growing in the garden of my life in this season. While my hands were busy attacking the weeds at their roots, as my grandma instilled in me, my mind was processing the words of First and Second Peter streaming through my earbuds. I