IN A NUTSHELL...

My favorite tree is a white oak. Mature white oak trees look like fairy trees, or like a place for Robin and his Merry Men to lounge about, waiting to drop on Prince John's minions.

When we moved back to the farm, we relocated a few trees to the yard around the house. A maple tree, which has thrived and is now a respectable size for grandkids to climb. Two cedar trees - one for the baby we lost, and a second to be a "friend" to the first, because my middle daughter did not want the Baby Tree to feel alone. And, after much searching, a knee-high twig of a white oak.

All the trees we relocated survived, all except the little oak. The white oak, sadly, succumbed to drought and careless tractors. I kept my eyes open for another of the rare saplings, and a few years later, found one to transplant. I faithfully watered the little tree and tried to protect it from the dangers of farm life. The little tree got trampled once, and the main trunk broke. The little tree got weed-whacked. It suffered abuse from small children. I continued to water the twisted little stump, no thicker than my thumb, willing it to live.

And you know what? The little tree did live!

The white oak is nowhere near as big and lush as its neighbor, the maple, but slowly, steadily, it continues to grow. And today, beneath the little white oak tree, I found acorns...lots and LOTS of acorns! This makes me sooooo happy!!!

When I was struggling through nursing school not-so-many-years-ago, an acorn reminded me of the bigger purposes of God. Today, an acorn reminds me of God's faithfulness and goodness again. Inside the glossy brown shell of this tiny nut, God wrote the entire blueprint of a magnificent tree that can live for hundreds of years, grow to enormous height, and shelter and feed untold numbers of animals. And if God can write the script for for a white oak tree and tuck all that potential and promise into a tiny brown nut, then surely I can trust him to write the story of my life. 

There is so much in my life that does not make sense right now, much that leaves me angry, frustrated, heartbroken, and confused. My heart has been trampled, weed-whacked, and abused, and my future is shadowed with so many unknowns.

But God continues to water, nurture, and faithfully sustain.

And I continue to grow.

The birdfeeder was a gift from my sweet coworkers,
 in memory of Dad, who died earlier this year.
Daddy loved birds...and trees.