God in his infinite wisdom

When someone who went to the tiny Lutheran Church where I used to serve as choir director would die, the pastor would say, "This week, God in His infinite wisdom took from us (person's name)." I always thought that it was sort of a shocking phrase, as if this big mean deity was leaning down to swipe family members from his believers.
I was looking at this tree today, and the phrase kept running through my head.













There's a certain mathematical pattern going on there - a kind of incredibly complex geometry, though I could never describe it. Maybe a scientist who studies fractals could. All the strange, beautiful, and disgusting cycles of birth and death created this gnarled masterpiece. I'm not certain that God reaches down to snatch loved ones from the Earth. But God in his infinite wisdom created a world where things begin, and things end.

I guess what I'm trying to tell you is that God in his infinite wisdom took my brother, my friend, Jeff, from us yesterday. He was my late-night confidante, my partner in slacking-crime, an older brother who tried to help me navigate the world through the lens of our particular genetic gifts and flaws. I am forever changed by his wit, his perserverance, his love.