There’s a valley here, where the winds of the world come to reside.
Gusts sweep down one mountain range, tumble across the valley
floor, sweep up the next mountain range, all in endless supply.
The trees there grow crooked, reaching in diagonal
tandem, away from the first mountain range.
But they grow.
And they’re strong.
See, despite that relentless horizontal battering, the
vertical doesn’t change. The roots sink their tendrils ever-deeper. The leaves
up top reach for the light, soak in strength.
I wonder at them sometimes. In storms, when life tumbles
hard and I grow crooked, my limbs feel heavy and my heart feels faint. I wonder
where the breaking point is.
And then I see those trees, how they stand and grow and
never break, always reach, always root.
Isn’t that us? When we’re swept by a
gust, and we feel the Savior’s strong arms beckon, bolster, strengthen? We
nestle in, root deeper, take refuge… and reach harder than ever for Him. Always
reachable, always pouring light over us.
Winds of life change us, and people see it—the different
direction we grow now… but even more? Those winds send us to Him, we learn His strength
in a way we never knew before, and people see that, too.
In the valley where the winds blow strong and the trees grow stronger. . . because He is Mightier.
Hop over here
(6th picture down) to see a picture of one such tree. I can’t post
it here due to copyright, but it’s worth the cyber-field trip to see.
