A Tale of Two Trees

I have found through my life that God speaks to me through images. Sometimes they are profound, other times simple. And sometimes they just help me clarify the way that I am feeling at a given moment. This morning was one of those.

I was driving from the farm (where my kids are while I'm working - that's a story for another time) to my office this morning, and I saw the strangest and most beautiful tree. It was fascinating! It had two different types of leaves, two different textures of branches! I was so amazed that I slowed down to take a better look.

And that's when I realized that I was actually looking at two trees, grown so closely together that they had intertwined to form a single 'tree'. From a distance, you saw a beautiful, fascinating sculpture. Up close, you saw the intricacy of nature at work. Two separate trunks, about 3 feet apart, that had grown into a massive and beautifully combined structure. An evergreen and a deciduous tree, in perfect harmony. And as I looked at it, I marvelled at God's creation once again, and I realized something very important about myself.

I married very young, and in the haste of what was once called puppy love. By the one-week anniversary of the union, I regretted the choice. But I viewed (and still view) the vow as sacred, and I did my best to make the marriage work. It was never happy, and I never found the comfort in the relationship that I heard other people describe; but, there was contentment in obedience to God's word. I would never have ended the marriage of my own accord - simply because it went against my principles - but when the dust settled from my rather humiliating abandonment, I found myself keeping company with an emotion that would be considered odd for an abandoned woman: relief. Home became a refuge - a place of peace, rather than strife. Yes, I was relieved and thankful. Growing alone - an independent tree - was much better than being joined to a kudzu vine, so determined to dominate that it would choke the life out of its host without thought or compunction.

But back to the trees . . .

What I realized in that moment was that - should God ever will that singleness is not the state He wishes me to occupy - I want to be like those trees. An independent soul, with my own identity, who finds a way to perfectly meld, mesh and intertwine the aspects of my life with that of another. Not to lose who I am - but to fully and completely complement someone else in such a way that we together are more than we were apart. From a distance, a wondrous and lovely entity. Up close, two distinct identities formed together by the hands of a Creator who is never far away. Cooperative. Cohesive. Beautiful. Whole.

Sound like a fairy tale? Maybe. But wasn't it God who formed man from dust and woman from a rib? Seems like He specializes in fairy tales. And until then? I stand thankful that He takes care of His own.

Ending One Dream . . . and Beginning Another

I can distinctly remember the day 3 years and 11 months ago that I signed the papers purchasing my home. It was sunny, and I knew there was a busy afternoon of moving ahead of us. I had just completed my first year of full-time teaching. My daughter was 2. And I was idly dreaming - with every box packed, with every wall painted - of the life we would build within those walls.

Fast forward - 3 years and 11 months later . . .

Those dreams are gone. They have been mourned. But it is time to move on. To new dreams . . .

Today, I signed the papers for my house again. The weather is just as sunny, but there is no busy moving ahead (though I do need to clean up the toys in the living room and call the plumber to work on the back bathroom). I now work as a paralegal part-time and a teacher part-time. My teaching contract has renewed! My daughter is 6, and my son is 13 months. And I'm idly dreaming again, but much differently this time . . .

I know that I'm expected to feel sadness - or at the least, melancholy - about this event. I know that because each time I share my news, people tell me how sorry they are - and I'm taken aback a moment before I respond to their sympathy. I know why they are acknowledging the sadness in the moment, but I'm not feeling sadness. Or bitterness or anger, or melancholy.

Instead, I'm relieved. I'm hopeful. I'm happy. When the world fell apart, I didn't believe that there was any way my children and I would still have a home when the dust settled - but look what God has done! It's a miracle! When the world fell apart, God was STILL THERE! And I just cannot honestly say that it leaves me with anything but . . . wonder, joy and hope. It's the ultimate miracle - the one that Christ performs in every life - when He takes the broken things and makes them better than they were before they were broken! And I rejoice at what He has done!

If He has ordered my steps through the minefield of the past few years, what more do I have to fear? He will order my steps through everything else as well. And I can be nothing but thankful for the new dreams - and the plans that He has for me.

So my daydreaming this time is much more general, because I have no idea what God has planned. I only know that He is good and will walk with me through every plan He has made. Whatever they might be . . .

A Mississippi Interfaith Prayer Meeting

My daughter attends the same school I teach at. It's a secular private school that is based on Christian principals. That basically means that prayer is okay within the class, they have devotionals, and faith can be discussed openly. But it's not corporate. And there are a good many non-Christian students.

Noelle is in K5, and her best buddies are Navarn and Tanya, children of Indian immigrants, and Wondeful, a Chinese immigrant. They are Hindu and Buddhist respectively. We were having a discussion this morning on prayer, and Noelle informed me that she, Wondeful, Navarn and Tanya had a prayer meeting on the playground yesterday, and that they have prayer every day at lunch. I was curious and asked her to explain:

At lunch, Noelle apparently blesses her food every day and ends her prayer with the phrase, "and don't let me throw up in Jesus name." Her friends have noticed the prayer, and since she has never thrown up after lunch, they decided to pray it too. (I have no idea why any of them expect to throw up.)

They gained such faith by the evidence of not throwing up after lunch, that when a caterpillar crisis erupted yesterday on the playground, they had a plan. One of the other children, Thomas Daniel, had thrown a handful of caterpillars he had collected into a puddle, and said caterpillars were struggling for survival. Noelle and her friends "rescued" them from the puddle, but apparently, they thought the caterpillars were still in distress. So, Noelle led them in prayer for the lives of the caterpillars - she pled the blood of Jesus over the puddle-drenched caterpillars. And pretty soon, Nevarn, Tanya and Wondeful were pleading the blood of Jesus too.

I had to try really hard, but I didn't laugh when my daughter told this story, because she was wonderfully serious about the whole thing. The caterpillars survived, and she's convinced it was the blood of Jesus that did it. I'm not sure if Jesus' blood literally saved the caterpillars, but I know that it left an impression on four little girls praying on the playground.

And for one moment in the world, in Central Mississippi, there was a prayer meeting of one Apostolic, one Buddhist and two Hindus where all four were pleading the blood of Jesus. My own prayer? That it will be a seed in the hearts of those children that God will nurture into something bigger than we can imagine.

Sometimes God can use foolish things to confound we who feel so wise . . .