Growth

Growth



“If I never had a stormy day, then I wouldn’t know that He could take all my pain away.”

-James Fortune and Fiya





I am the oldest tree in this forest. My time has come to enjoy the incredible surroundings of God’s given land. It has been four hundred and eighty three years and God told me to stop growing. My rough, brown bark has stretched to its limit and now relaxes with thankful ease. God told me to grow sixty three branches and now I have exactly sixty three branches that sway with joy in the wind. God told me to grow leaves, making sure to round their edges and spread them out into beautiful similar designs. They fell many times, but I always grew them back before I could miss them too much. I have exactly eight hundred and fifty one carefree leaves that thank God every second for living. If ever there is a slight whispering in the air, it is the sound of thankful leaves praying up to the heavens. I was also told to, in my lifetime, produce acorns. Sculpting their green, rounded bottoms and ridged, brown tops three to a stem was a joy I cannot explain. The pain I felt watching them fall to the ground almost submerged the joy I felt creating them. Though my acorns and leaves always grow back, the departure from them is never welcomed. The very first thing God told me to grow, though, was sixty three roots. I have had the experience of being eaten at a young age, but my roots were deeply implanted into the earth that surrounds me and I kept growing. The amount of roots spreading through the cool soil is the same as the number of branches reaching toward the wide open sky. It’s not a coincidence that this number is the same, but a way for God to remind me that I am special to Him. I know that I am the only tree, in the world God created, of this sort, and I am thankful for my ways.

The great gifts of God are significant and sometimes hard to appreciate. Just like humans and animals have senses, so do I, just in a different way. I can’t see like a human or animal, but I already know what everything looks like, so seeing like them is easy. When ever I wish to see something, my mind takes me there. Although I am an oak tree, it could easily feel like I’m a palm tree at the beach. I can see the ocean and feel the calming spirit of the air from the waves when they crash and sizzle on the hot sand. I can let my mind wander out into the endlessness of the ocean where the sky and the water meet and mist away into the distance. An open wild flower field has a sweet delicateness that sings to my soul. The sun is particularly happy there and sends a warming sensation that is pleasant on my bark. These places, and everywhere else made by God, are absolutely beautiful, but my scenery of choice, where I love to be and where I was brought into this world, is in the comfort of a surrounding forest; where the sun is bright and warm in the day and the air is cool and moist at night. There is a presence here that relaxes and breathes in unison with me. The earth is connected to me both literally and spiritually. I can feel the pressures of humans and animals as they walk on the earth between my roots and their feet. The feeling is somewhat annoying, but what keeps me from simply pushing the creatures away from me is the fact that they are my sisters and brothers. All of us share the same father in heaven, who created us. The worms tickle my roots as they slowly creep through the soil and the ants massage the grooves in my bark as they nibble their way up my trunk. As easily as I can physically feel this, I can feel the presence of the other trees, shrubs and bushes on the other side of the forest. I feel when a young plant gets sat on by a large animal or urinated on by a hunting dog. I feel when a practice bullet hits the bulls’ eye and when young lovers carve their names into the bark. I can even feel the burning of a spray paint and the scratching of squirrels inside a cavity. I know the good feelings and the bad feelings. From the feeling of a perfect breeze dancing through the branches on a hot day to the agonizing pain of a woodpecker chipping away at the bark; every living thing in this forest shares sensations as long as the roots are implanted in the same soil. Sometimes I wish that pain wouldn’t exist, but I know it’s necessary. I know it makes a difference to feel it. Life has a funny way of bringing welcomed pain that’s only healed by God’s touch or by the significantly satisfying outcomes that make the pain worth it.

The feeling that is incomparable is the soothing relief of rain. When it rains, it is a happy day. I love the way the sky looks when the clouds are so heavy and full of sweet enticing rain. The sky is a deep pale blue and the soft grey clouds are ready to burst. My roots quiver with thirst pending the moment when the rain drops will seep into the ground. The season of spring is like a birthday party, thrown by God, for all the living things on earth. Without rain, there would be no way for me or any other plant to grow healthy and strong. That first cool, refreshing hint of rain that seeps into the soils around me swivels its way to my roots. Eagerly, they suck in the rejuvenating liquid and pull it through my core for a pleasant and satisfying revival.

I could go on and on about how good rain is and how much I am thankful to God for allowing me and every other plant to enjoy this sensation, but the rain has some down sides. I don’t mean to point fingers, but the blame does belong to my very own sisters and brothers, who carelessly ruined the planet. I feel horrible saying this, but if the humans did care about us as much as we do them, then there would be no acid rain that deceivingly comes to destroy us. I know that God put me on this earth to do a job. I have been doing my job for four hundred and eighty three years and I will be doing it everyday until God says so. I’m quite sure that the humans know the plants help them to breathe, so why will they not help us to live? I don’t know what the reasons are, but I trust the most important person to trust. I know that God knows what he’s doing, so I don’t do anything about it. Even at the worst moments.

Today is a gorgeous day. Spring is in the air and flowing all around the forest. The wind is gentle and fresh and whistles with happiness through my leaves. The sky is clear, but lasts nights rain fall has left a blissful attitude with the plants. Everything is gleefully swaying with the rhythm of the wind; even the birds are gliding through the air to its song. The rain drops left on the surrounding leaves and bushes sparkle in the sunlight. The animals are out to bask in the warm rays. Small ones jump and roll in puddles. If one were to describe a perfect day, this would be it. Then a quiet buzzing noise is heard in the distance. The forest goes quiet and still. Even the river seems to have slowed it’s running pace. The mysterious noise gets louder and approaches. I can feel the vibrations circulating around my roots, coiling up my trunk and shooting out to the ends of my leaves, though I don’t know whether this feeling is the vibrations or fear. My mind has come to a realization of the situation everyone in this forest is in. I brace myself for the scary truth that this beautiful day was meant to be our last. As the grand yellow truck advances through the forest, violently destroying every shrub and bush in it’s path, the animals quickly run past me in a fright. The distress calls from each animal pierce my roots and make them quiver in horror. Those who have the blessing of legs are out of sight in record time just as the yellow truck comes into sight. The humans are discussing future plans and wonders of what this forest is to become. But this is my home. This is the home of many. It already is something. They get closer to me and measure my trunk and estimate my height, contemplating on whether or not I should stay. They don’t have this decision, though. I know that God wants this to be my last moment on earth, because He gave me this beautiful day and the fulfilling rainy night as a welcome back gift. I was always ready to go. I just never thought about the pain it will take just so my sisters and brothers can expand. The ropes were tight against my bark. The truck began to pull the other side of the rope with enormous force. It only took about an hour to detach my roots from deep within the earth. The rope got tighter and tighter as the truck pulled and pulled. Reluctantly, each of my sixty three roots surrender to the strong yanking of the truck. The tearing pain crawled its way up through my core and made my branches tingle achingly. Every minute in the hour, the pain became increasingly worse. This is the first time I’ve ever experienced the length of a full hour. Before this moment, an hour to humans seemed like a second to me. Finally the relief and detachment from the ground was complete and I began to fall. If I had to live a million lives to age five hundred just to feel this feeling now, I willingly would. The very moment I separated from the strong hold the earth had on me, I felt the strong, reassuring arm of God reach down through the middle of my trunk. It was a strength I never felt before. Time slowed down to a pace I couldn’t comprehend. My long and precious journey to the ground was the most pleasant I’ve ever felt; even better than the comfort of rain. Leaning on God’s arm, He slowly and gently eased my way down. He gave me time to appreciate what I was dying for. I saw the construction men rejoicing in success to my falling. I saw plants cringing, especially the ones directly underneath me, and I saw animals hiding in bushes turning their heads from the terrible sight. Then I saw what God slowed me down to see. I saw importance. A large, black bear was slowly creeping out of the wilderness. The small trees and high shrubs hid it from the sight of the humans. The bear made its’ way to a small berry bush and sat firmly in place directly in front of it. As the bear began to smuggle some berries cleanly off the bush, I could still feel the slight pain the bush was feeling, but also the satisfaction in knowing that the bush was helping the bear to stay alive. I am still connected to the happenings of nature. God wanted me to know this. He wanted me to know that even though I won’t be on this earth any more, I will still be an important part of nature. Life goes on, but my work throughout the four hundred and eighty three years of my life contributed to what is to become in the future. To the humans I crashed to the ground with great force, but to me it was like falling on a cloud.

Growth is an experience that involves understanding. Understanding who we are and why we are here. Understanding that without the bad, we would not know good. Understanding we have a specific name for a reason. In my life, I’ve been many things, but the key is to understand whether they are good or bad things. I’ve been dinner, or a means of survival. I’ve been a bathroom, or a comfort zone. I’ve been a marker, or a clever map. I’ve been a target, or a learning experience. I’ve been a carving, or a lover’s keepsake. I’ve been a victim of loitering, or a shelter. But most importantly, I’ve been a tree.