There is a tree in the fields of Arizona close to my home that stands out from the agricultural fields. Even at their bloom, the wheat fields don't cover this tree. I have stared at this tree many an hour from my outside porch. What kind of tree? I haven't a clue in the world for as much as I know about a tree is that it absorbs water from its roots to grow and bloom. If you look at that particular tree over the sunset you can see that it consists of three branches. One larger branch that grows many leaves. One thinner branch to the South that grows leaves when it wants and a strong branch to the North that never changes. It never grows leaves; it never moves.
The largest branch is directly feeding off the stalk of the tree. It grows beautiful leaves and it sways in the winds of Spring. It's a strong branch though somewhat crooked in several areas. The second branch has some Springs when it sways its beautiful leaves in the wind, glistening in the sun. Other years, approaching fall, you see no branches. It just stays still. The little branch to the North is very peculiar for it grows but it never grows leaves nor does it have any curvatures, just straight. It's strong, no doubt. Just growing straight out.
One day I decided to take a closer inspection of this awkward looking tree. I approached and I could feel some of the roots under my feet. The roots must run deep if they are already sprouting out of the ground, I assumed. I got to the tree and one could see that the bark had seen its years of hardship. There were patches of bark missing. There were saw marks in some areas of the tree as if someone had tried to cut it down. Yet, it stood there holding those three branches, steadfastly.
From the little that I know about trees, I assume that if one branch is broken off, the rest of the tree can still thrive. As such I assumed about this tree that I had seen yonder for so long. One day, as I did every once in a while, I woke up at sunrise to say good morning to the day and that steadfast tree. I sat at my porch bench, took a sip of my coffee and rose my head to see the tree against the sunrise. I dropped my coffee cup as it shattered on the floor. One, two... One, two... One, two!!!!!! I ran to the tree and found that the unpredictable branch was gone. It was not sawed off; it had been broken off and it had been taken. I was saddened for the tree now held two branches but surely it would thrive. I went back and cleaned the mess I had left behind. I surprised myself as I wiped a tear from my cheek.
A few days later, from afar, I noticed no leaves on that bigger branch. Why? It was Spring. I approached and looked at the other smaller branch and it was starting to dry and slant. I inspected the bark and there was a sap-like substance coming from its old wounds. A month later I went back to that same tree. The branches were brittle to touch and the bark, the strong tree, dead.
God gave me three branches such as those I have described. He gave me a love for them that I can never describe. Nothing could substitute their love and vibrancy though they are all different. I am the tree stalk. I live for them bringing them the water they need to grow. God spare me the day that this old tree would have to be without one of its beautiful branches. God spare me...
The largest branch is directly feeding off the stalk of the tree. It grows beautiful leaves and it sways in the winds of Spring. It's a strong branch though somewhat crooked in several areas. The second branch has some Springs when it sways its beautiful leaves in the wind, glistening in the sun. Other years, approaching fall, you see no branches. It just stays still. The little branch to the North is very peculiar for it grows but it never grows leaves nor does it have any curvatures, just straight. It's strong, no doubt. Just growing straight out.
One day I decided to take a closer inspection of this awkward looking tree. I approached and I could feel some of the roots under my feet. The roots must run deep if they are already sprouting out of the ground, I assumed. I got to the tree and one could see that the bark had seen its years of hardship. There were patches of bark missing. There were saw marks in some areas of the tree as if someone had tried to cut it down. Yet, it stood there holding those three branches, steadfastly.
From the little that I know about trees, I assume that if one branch is broken off, the rest of the tree can still thrive. As such I assumed about this tree that I had seen yonder for so long. One day, as I did every once in a while, I woke up at sunrise to say good morning to the day and that steadfast tree. I sat at my porch bench, took a sip of my coffee and rose my head to see the tree against the sunrise. I dropped my coffee cup as it shattered on the floor. One, two... One, two... One, two!!!!!! I ran to the tree and found that the unpredictable branch was gone. It was not sawed off; it had been broken off and it had been taken. I was saddened for the tree now held two branches but surely it would thrive. I went back and cleaned the mess I had left behind. I surprised myself as I wiped a tear from my cheek.
A few days later, from afar, I noticed no leaves on that bigger branch. Why? It was Spring. I approached and looked at the other smaller branch and it was starting to dry and slant. I inspected the bark and there was a sap-like substance coming from its old wounds. A month later I went back to that same tree. The branches were brittle to touch and the bark, the strong tree, dead.
God gave me three branches such as those I have described. He gave me a love for them that I can never describe. Nothing could substitute their love and vibrancy though they are all different. I am the tree stalk. I live for them bringing them the water they need to grow. God spare me the day that this old tree would have to be without one of its beautiful branches. God spare me...
