Thursday, June 28, 2012

A Sapling


A young sapling stands in the thick of the forest. 

The arms of her neighbors stretch high above her, reaching out and across, mingling together, braiding through sky.  So many arms interwoven create a roof so thick that the sun is almost blocked from reaching this small tree.  But she finds a way to see it, tilting to one side, and then to the other, craning her trunk to catch a glimpse of light.  When she finds a ray, she freezes her frame to relish every drop of sun until her whole being is filled with light. 

Clouds roll in and rain falls.  The older, taller trees lap up buckets of water poured down from above, almost soaking up the entire wet blessing.  But she finds a way to lean to the left, and then to crouch lowly, until she spots a single stream of rainwater.  She does not move as the water trickles down onto her, soaking every last piece of bark and quenching every thirsty branch. 

There are times when, despite her best efforts, she cannot see the sun and she does not taste the rain, for the limbs that block them are simply too dense.  She is unaware that all the while, it is the rain and the sun that are finding her.  She waits, knowing that somewhere above, rain pours down and sunlight abounds. When it comes again, she is content with her one ray and her single stream, for it is all she needs to keep growing. 

And so she grows, down through her roots and up through her trunk, with a movement that is like no other in all of the forest.  Growth for this small sapling is creeping, almost unnoticeable.  She grows in this way, searching for rays and streams, knowing that they will come in time, trusting that she is moving higher and lower because something moves within her.  She knows no other way of being, for it is simply how she was made, to keep searching and finding through trusting and knowing. 

This young sapling who stands in the thick of the forest has a name, and it the most beautiful name of all the trees.  Her name is Faith.