Like Grass
Little Bluestem, Isaiah, and the Comfort of Humility I The Word in the Wild, Advent 2, Year B
Rust colored and knee height, with silky tufts spilling from the top, Little Bluestem fields beckon from the roadside. They are a sign of winter, every bit as much as oaks bare of leaves or the sound of snow geese overhead in their tangle of v-shaped formations. Since I was a teenager, I would traipse across these fields in search of LeC…