One of the things we loved about our house in Mayberry when we bought it was the tree in the front yard, a beautiful Bradford Pear tree. Those trees have a special place in my heart because it's a family name and I remember my grandpa planting one in his front yard. It wasn't long after we had moved into our home that our tree was struck by lightning. It split right down the middle. One half remained standing, the other half fell onto the house. We had both halves of our tree cut down, hauled off and the stump buried.
The following year, odd weeds started to grow where once stood our tree. We'd mow them down, but they multiplied and got stronger. We finally realized they weren't weeds. They were branches of a Bradford Pear. Our dead and buried tree was sprouting new life. Of course at that point we kept it and let it grow. I'm sure to most of the neighbors it still appeared to be weeds. Then eventually a new odd little bush of some sort. Now it appears to be a very large bush that is as tall as the house and beginning to maybe resemble a tree.
In the last few weeks we've learned that a friend's cancer has returned. They are at that point of slow....motion. The biopsy said cancer and tossed the puzzle pieces of normal life high in the air. The scans have been done. The pieces are now slooowly falling from the sky as they wait for results. How far will they land? What exactly are they up against? This slow motion, holding out for the next steps, is the worst. I have been praying for joyful distractions for them as they must wait. Now at this point in our journey, I keep thinking I should have something to offer them. Something to say that could provide wisdom or comfort. I mean, really, haven't I learned something here? But I feel I've got nothing. All I can offer them are my tears and the same thing I tell Things One and Two.
Be a tree.
We had quite a storm roll through our part of Kansas last night. Locals reading this may be really questioning my 'be a tree' mantra after driving through town today. There are leaves and branches scattered throughout yards. My dad's yard looks particularly rough. I questioned it myself as I picked up limbs in his yard and attempted to move a very large branch, failing miserably. Then I looked up. It was indeed a very large branch that could be mistaken for a small tree, but it fell from a mighty oak. A might oak that is still a mighty oak but is now letting a little more light shine through.
The storm hits. It shakes out our weakness, sheds what is weighing us down. We are strong when we are flexible and we bend in the wind, moving in the direction God intends. So, be a tree my friends. I do believe we will be stronger and just maybe, even transformed into something brand new.
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