This Tree & Me

It is the rainy season, so on this pouring morning as my plans have all been washed away, I'm left to sit and study from my Haitian rocking chair, not a glorious and majestic sunrise, but a simple mango tree. 

I was blessed with many sunrises of jaw-dropping grandeur when we lived at the old village by the sea.  Here I am surrounded by trees.  I was raised where trees were few and far between, in the rugged plateaus and hill country of Wyoming.  I remember my father's comment about these standing giants, how they always made him feel claustrophobic. 

But what choice have I, inside these walls and imprisoned by these bars of water, except to gaze upon this tree and find the similarity of me, and my God's purpose for this morning.  There is always a reason.  Always a plan.  It's part of my great joy to look for the gift and zealously claw away the wrapping paper.  

Yes, those sunrises were spectacular, and of course they reminded me of the power and splendor of a great King, but this mango tree is for me, and in fact I think it's why God gave us trees.  

What an awesome leap to such conclusion, stretched thin for my point, you might decide, but stop and think for just a moment, lend your ear and your imagination for a time.  Find yourself in the sway of this rocking, rocking chair, with these cleansing rains pouring down all around, and lock away your 'busy' in the cellar for now.  

This tree, it stretches and reaches for the Sun, does it not?  And if the blessing of the Sun were to go away, would it not of course find its most immediate demise?

This tree, it can stand so strong and seem so steady, but does it not bend and sway, from the gentle breeze to the hurricane.  

It bears such wonderful fruit, tastily delicious and refreshing, when it's doing what it was created and designed to do.  But when the great storms come, does it not drop them and lose it's charity?

And after the storm, does it not seem to almost take a deep inhale of fresh air?  Its leaves unfurl and fluff up, a little greener, a little healthier, stronger and more prepared for that next challenging circumstance.  I can even smell this tree. It's the smell of life.  Citrus.  Even the bark, if I were to carve out a piece, would give me the aroma of something hoped for but not seen. 

If a branch should fall away, well even Jesus told us stories about that.  It can be supple, alive and useful, or it can be dry, dead, and merely fuel for the coming fire. 

A bird will rest her wings on those branches. Maybe a child will swing from a rope.  The shade that it gives is priceless on a scorching hot day.  Even the rains have a hard time finding their target when one is nestled close to the trunk.    

This tree can hold up, lift up, hug, and hang on, when it's stretching toward the Sun.  But what damage, what destruction, what tragedy and depressing sighs when it fails to stand, and comes crashing down.  Only rooted deep will this tree live out it's intended purpose, as any tree only feasting on the shallow has found.  

The rains are going now.  

The birds are thousands, singing. 

The Sun is breaking through me and these clouds.

A perfect mango has fallen and waits for me. 

It's time for breakfast.