As I sit on the deck, this cool autumn morning, the breeze brings me fragrance that is impossible to describe. It rained last night and the good earth drank that rain in like a thirsty child. The trees, washed clean, leave a pine smell that is almost overpowering.It’s the voice of those trees that I want to hear. I imagine them standing on my hillside, whispering to me the story of their lives. One big pine nearby is about 70 feet tall. I think of the time when he was but a sapling – a short piece of wood and needles. Was he afraid that he may be drowned by the rain, smashed to bits by a falling tree, bent by the heavy snow of winter? Would he be trampled by the elk or would the hungry deer eat his needles when there was nothing else left, when everything else was dry and dead from the long arid summer?
I want to hear the story of his growing – he did grow. Oh he’s missing a branch here and there. He has a funny bend in his trunk from growing around another tree that had fallen and leaned against him for years. He’s not straight, not perfect, but still he grew. Winds, winters, and drought assailed him. He is blackened on one side where a fire tried to snuff out his life, but did not. He is a survivor. Still he grew.
The tree stands now looking down at a sapling beneath his branches as if to say. If your roots are anchored, if you look up to your maker, if it’s God’s will, you too will grow and live and survive all this old world has to throw at you. It’s the way of things.
Likewise it’s the way of things for us in this world. Men and women are planted here. They sprout and grow because the storms in their lives give them water to live. The droughts toughen them and give them a will to go on when there is no relief from the heat of battle. Their battles may be against pain, or sickness, loneliness or emptiness. The fires of life come on them suddenly and sometimes all they can do is stand. And finally, people are forced to grow around the bendings brought on by other people hampering the straightness of their lives.
Yes it’s the way of things, but I believe that scars and burns and bendings are more interesting and more beautiful than just straight sticks.
If your roots are anchored, if you look to your maker and if it’s in God’s plan, you too will live and grow and become beautiful in the eyes of the one who cares for you above all else.
© Diane Gruchow 2009
