Listen to the tone of these words from James Joyce from Dubliners – words where he mentions barren thorns, “Snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.” [“The Dead,” from Dubliners 1916].
We all have thorns in our life. Think about yours.
You can read the entire post by Father Andy at Reflections by the Bay