Allow me to give you a lesson on the environment:

Succession is when nature returns after destruction. 

There are two kinds: primary and secondary. Primary succession is when a severe disturbance causes a biotic community to be stripped of life and soil, yet it is restored from nothing. Secondary succession is when a disturbance strips nearly all life from a community’s soil and, over time, fresh nature is revived from the remnants of the past.

I was among the herd of student brought to an abandoned factory-- a place where slabs of concrete smother the ground. We went for a class trip, to see secondary succession demonstrated. Shoots of grass poke through every massive crack in the pavement now abandoned by efforts to stifle wildness. 

It seems like we cannot stop nature if we try. Because secret little nutrients hide in the dregs and nurse life back into existence. 

God is like that.

God is grass. He is tenacious. He is faithful. He is gracious.

On another note, this is Bethany's favorite poem; it's morbid:

Grass by Carl Sandburg 

Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.

Shovel them under and let me work---

I am the grass; I cover all.

And pile them high at Gettysburg

And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.

Shovel them under and let me work.

Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:

What place is this?

Where are we now?

I am the grass.

Let me work.