I have a tree in my back garden that was ‘not well’ according to the horticulturalist who came to visit me several months ago. I thought it a spectacular tree - it had glossy leaves, and sometimes flowers. It has the fancy name of a Port Wine Magnolia, though if you know this species you will know that you have to look hard to see the purple flowers. The harsh prognosis from the gardener was ”It has scale and needs to be severely pruned before I can do anything about it.” I was horrified!.....
… Firstly, because it looked fine to me and secondly, because a severe prune would ruin the look of my small garden in which the tree was the standout hero.
So, what should I do? Listen to the expert and give it a chop or ignore the problem? With the assurance that the tree would grow back I listened to the professional’s advice. For months now it has been a trunk in the ground with a few sticks limply attached. I have been waiting… and waiting… and WAITING! And nothing!!!!
One day I thought “I just have to trust.” I gave it some fertiliser as the gardener had said, I watered it with care, and gradually the tree is starting to come back to life. The first signs of new life were hundreds of purple flowers and now each day I look for more evidence. I look closely, I have to really search … and on the thick woody stems, here, there and everywhere now I see little green shoots no bigger than the top of a toothpick starting to form… and each day there are more.
This tree makes me think about life and the cycles of life; that I am still learning how to see and how God is always whispering to me to pay attention, right where I am. Oh, how I wish I could learn this lesson well. In Jeremiah 29:13 we read, “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” I think about what it means for me to seek God with all my love and devotion right in the midst of where I am and just as I am. I think it is in the deep alignment of my body, heart, mind and spirit to God, in the present moment, whether I am joyful or I’ve been pruned by grief or disappointment to the very core of my being, or somewhere in between, that I will find connection and learn to see.
Anne Bonnefin