She had dreams of being as tall, strong, vibrant and and personable as the Redbuds, but only in her mind.
Outwardly, she was limp, dim, her purple was fading. She had many reasons to see herself without sober self-assessment. Drenching storms had left her buds ransacked. Not much hair remained left upon her leaves. It seemed like only yesterday that she was reflecting the sun of the first thaw. Children spared from trampling her, because in those days, she looked like a flower. Today she was not feeling the warmth. She thought she caught a glimpse of the sun in brief – but then he set. When?
When would the storms relinquish their rights to the clouds over to summer? How long could her stalk withstand this wet, cold and bitter breeze? Why was she growing along a roadside while others she knew appeared so nourished and fertile with families spread along the green rolling hills of the valley?
Will anything stop the rain?
Yet, some inner strength kept tugging her upward. Something deeply ingrained inside her chlorophyll-bought roots. The seeds of those who had ran the race to the finish. Their bodies laid down as a sacrifice to give life to those they would never know. She knew they did it for a higher calling. They found a fuller joy which she envied.
It was like their joy overflowed.
Stronger than the rain.
They lived for the reason they were created. They grew because they had a relationship with the planter. They gave their shade, their color, their soil, and their roots as sustenance to whomever they neighbored. Not a flood too wet not drought too dry. Even if their mere purpose was to indicate rich soil- they stood. And in doing so, they spurred on others to do the same. And every year, they eat the humble pie of their forefathers. They are an embodiment of beauty and a first fruit of courage. Never did they need to compare themselves to anyone else. For they delighted in their Maker. He had made them whole.
So there she stood. Still looking on at the Redbuds, and her fellowplants.
She realized she learned something from her own kind. Those that stood on the hills, in the valleys, in the ravines and right beside her. She didn’t need to be a Redbud. Neither would her view have been the same had she grown up in the valley. What a great advantage to take in the panorama of it all from just where she was!
The ravines. The rolling hills. She could even see the tops of the Reds from where she stood.
And early tomorrow – she will eagerly await the sunrise (be it rain or shine) because she will be feeling for its warmth through the cold, and looking for its light through the dark.
~ Louise A. Grady
