The tree awakened earlier than usual
one morning and stretched her arms toward the horizon as if to invite the early
rays of dawn into her world. She shivered with delight, wiggling her roots in
the muddy earth, which had only recently yielded its frozen hardness.
She sensed something was different. Her
roots seemed to be extending further and more firmly into the soil. Her arms
seemed to embrace more of the world, not with the timid gestures of a sapling
afraid of tangling with the wind, but with the freedom of knowing that the wind
could not topple her.
"I have survived the winter!"
she marvelled aloud.
"How wonderful," whispered
the dawn, who had a facility for appreciating new miracles no matter how often
they occurred. She swirled around the tree in a ritual of blessing, enveloping
her gently, making her feel very special.
"How very different this
feels," mused the tree, for a few short weeks ago the melting earth
beneath her roots had sent shivers of panic through every single branch, She
had cried out in alarm then, sensing that she might sink into the earth] and
lose herself. often during the cold winter...., while she had trembled with
anxiety she had felt an inner voice -- a small but steady voice -- which
remained fluid and alive when everything else in her seemed paralyzed.
But now -- now! -- she was filled with
the realization that her inner life was in harmony with the world outside. She
relaxed the tight fibres of her being which she had unwittingly held rigid
during the cold gray months.
"I have survived the winter!"
she exulted.
"You have survived the
winter!" the birds echoed, hopping eagerly from branch to branch, bouncing
on the tender extensions of herself that the tree had not even noticed.
"Oh!"
This one word, spoken softly and
reverently, was all the tree could manage as she examined the white buds
beginning to show through the tips of her branches, once held hard-clenched
against the winter winds.
I have survived the winter," the
tree sighed, "and I have grown!"
Days passed, and the energy within her
fairly exploded, spilling out into dusters of lovely blossoms. She watched each
day as they grew larger and more beautiful.
A blush of pink coursed through her
petals. The tree stood speechless.
You have survived the winter because
you are, and were, and always will be very much loved," said the sun.
"For that small place deep within you that remained unfrozen and open to
mystery, that is where I have made my dwelling. And long, long before you felt
my warmth surrounding you, you were being freed and formed from within in ways
so deep and profound that you could not possibly know what was happening."
"I...I...I had hope," she
whispered, noticing that the words seemed to come from that inner space deep
within her.
"Yes, you had hope," sparkled
the sun. You trusted in life and that is what enabled you to grow. For if you
had no hope and trust in the centre of your being, you could not have blossomed
into you."
This was almost too much joy for the
tree to hear. No words would come, and no words were necessary.
Weeks passed and the tree became a part
of life in the meadow. She caught the kites of children who gathered nearby,
and happily tossed them back again.
"You are a good sport," they
said to her. "We will call you Friend."
A young couple sat in the shade of her
thickening leaves and spoke of their love for one another. "This is a
special place," they said, and they left their initials on her toughened
bark.
"We shall call you Keeper of
Secrets," they said to her.
A tired woman, bent with care, walked
silently through the meadow, oblivious to everything except her own worries.
She did not notice the tree.
"Come and rest for a while,"
whispered the tree, but she finally had to toss a piece of fruit onto the path
before the woman saw her. Wearily, the woman sat and ate the fruit, and
pondered deeply. The tree could feel the woman relax as she rested against her
trunk.
Finally the woman stood up. "Thank
you," she said and embraced the tree. The tree winced, for the woman had
touched a spot that had not healed from the winter's ravages -- a spot that
remained vulnerable even though the spring and summer months had been good to
her. The woman seemed to notice and caressed the spot thoughtfully. At that
moment there was a oneness -- a sense of understanding between the troubled
woman and the tree.
"I will call you Hope,"
whispered the woman, and touched her again with affection and gratitude.
Long after her fruit had been shared
and she began noticing touches of scarlet in her leaves, the tree still carried
deep within her the memories of all her experiences.
"Who could possibly have imagined
all that has happened to me?" she said to no one in particular.
And then addressing herself to the sun,
she said, "...except you!"
"Have you seen? Have you
heard?" she asked eagerly. "I am needed! I am wanted! I am named!
Aren't they beautiful names? I am called Friend, and Keeper of Secrets, and
Hope."
"Indeed," replied the sun,
splashing a smile across the evening sky. "And what is the name I have
given you?"
"You named me?" the tree
asked, astonished at her lack of awareness. "Long before you were a
seedling," the sun replied solemnly. "What do you call me?" she
asked. Watching the sun slide behind the farthest hill, she stood motionless,
waiting in the promise of the newly-painted sky.
"What do you call me?" she
asked again in the stillness of the night. The small voice from within
said,"You are called Faithful."
"You
are called Faithful" blinked the evening star, as if to reassure her.
Notes
Time is limited today, but I wanted to share this story continuing the theme of transitions and transformation.
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