I was looking around today at the trees that are not evergreen and at the cacti which are still green, but in the cold of winter seem to have shrivelled a bit, and I was reflecting upon the nature of my chronic migraine headaches in light of my belief in a loving God. All that to say that it struck me that perhaps the creation does "cry out in praise" of God at all times and in all ways, but that it is really a Romantic concept that the cry of praise is always one of sheer joy. Perhaps praise in the Winter of one's life (times of pain, age, struggle, etc.) is actually embracing the reality, standing in the stillness and not completely shrivelling away. Perhaps our cries in the night can be not only petitions for ease, but as Gerard Manley Hopkins says, "not choosing not to be." Perhaps praise sometimes is standing with all of your fruits and leaves blown away, trusting that your roots will hold and that Spring will someday come.