The tree trunk is riddled with holes, covered in moss and lichen, lying on a bed of leaves just off one of the walking paths. It isn’t the only one – there are hundreds of them in the woods, decomposing.

I wonder how many years this tree stood, how long ago it grew from a seed into a towering presence. It seems like a sorry end for a grand life form, and an unnoticed one.

But I noticed, and a closer look revealed the life that is now present in this fallen trunk. Mushrooms and animals are breaking down the dead wood, turning it into new soil. Insects and small animals are living in and under it. The life of this tree ended, but nothing of the tree’s vitality has gone to waste. Energy and matter are being transformed from one state to another, and new life is created. This new life doesn’t change the fact that a tree has died, but the death of the tree doesn’t change the fact that new life emerges. It would be true whether I noticed it or not.

At the end of my time here, when my life is ended, who knows what the remains of my existence might foster – Noticed or not.

Flowers in bloom are lovely, but it’s hard to beat the symmetry of what has yet to open up. The structure of it, compacting into such a small, circular space what will soon unfold into something so much more noticeable to passersby.

Some see in this unfolding the evolutionary genius of the plant – a plant attracting what it needs to survive and thrive by flowering. Some see it in terms of aesthetics – beauty that is valuable for its own sake rather than for survival beyond its individual life span.

I’m not anxious to choose one perspective over the other, whether it’s the life of this plant, my own, or all the life this cosmos bears. Just because our lives foster the next generation doesn’t mean that they can be reduced to a means to a biological end. And just because our lives are an expression of beauty and uniqueness doesn’t mean that they aren’t leading to life beyond our own brief span of years.

Maybe Jesus wanted us to find more than one meaning in telling us to consider the lilies.