Brave Like This Sweet Tree


From where I sit

It appears as if her arms are stretched wide.

This tree.

This Beacon of shelter on days when the sun beats down.

This promise of hope.

At first, a seed

Pressed deep into the earth

Nurtured in a blanket of soil

Its soul quenched by the cool and refreshing tears of the air

Spoken to lovingly

Encouraged to grow.



Yet always reaching.

And as this tree ablaze in orange glory stretches out her branches

I am overwhelmed at the sight of her beautiful leaves

Her splendor

Her identity

Falling to the ground.

A season of death is upon her.

A stripping away

A season of rest

Cold, waiting rest.

But there is a promise in the death

A promise of things to come

New life waiting to arrive in the dawn of a new season

If only she can hold on

If only she can hold fast to the promise of spring

A promise whispered deep into her heart by a gentle creator.

And, alas, she is protected.

Her skin is thick

And grows thicker

Year by year

Season by season

Each winter leaves its mark

The harsher the winds, the darker and deeper are the traces

And yet she still is beautiful.

And here I stand

Just a speck in comparison.

And I remember.

Each season passes

Winter comes and goes

And so it is with life.

Each season makes me stronger

Each season adds another layer to my life

My heart

My story

And within each layer lies a glimpse of beauty

An inkling of the past

What once was so present and tangible is now only a story

And somehow this comforts me.

I feel safe beneath her branches that kiss the sky

Thanking it for each moment

Each season

Each scar

For in each one bears the Glory.

This Glory I will taste and chase for all eternity

Until I am made brave like this sweet tree.

Until I am made new.



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