By Lasara Firefox Allen
But each blade succeeds. Each one finds its way through hardship and struggle, into a new season.
A seed cracks. A shoot sprouts. The shoot reaches toward a light that’s not even visible. The shoot doesn’t stop at the hardship of mud, or stones, or pouring rain.
Slowly, hills turn from brown to green as shoot after shoot of brilliant, verdant grass pushes through the topsoil and finds the sought-for light.
A redwood lives for hundreds to thousands of years. Sequoias not only survive the ravages of fire, but rely upon that fire to create a healthy ecosystem. Yet when you walk through a redwood forest, you can see the scars left behind by fire after fire. You may see a tree with its whole core burnt and rotten, disintegrated, just a shell left behind–yet the tree still grows!
When the fire is burning, the long-term picture is not where your focus generally gravitates. But when you gaze into your past, you can often see the good that came of a challenging or painful experience.
Even in the times where something wonderful did not come of a difficult situation, you still have the choice in how to respond.
Growth is not always a graceful process. We know this. In teenage years the body grows out of control; gangly arms and legs knock into tables and chairs, and muscles burn with the searing pain of a growth-spurt.
Grace enters when you can recognize the fact that painful moments do pass, and that in their wake some good is often revealed. Pain is unavoidable, but as the saying goes, suffering is optional.
So feel the fire and know that it’s clearing out the underbrush. Feel your skin stretch as you reach toward the sun. Feel your muscles ache with exertion as they grow stronger. Feel it all, and do these things that may ache, knowing the reward of growth will be great.
A Seed Cracks Open
Think of a field of grass. Each blade is tender and tiny, fragile. Yet each one pushed its way through heavy, dense earth to reach for the sun. Some grew out from under rocks, curving through crevasses to finally find the light. Some even pushed through a heavy ground cover of fallen bark and tree limbs paid down by a harsh winter.But each blade succeeds. Each one finds its way through hardship and struggle, into a new season.
A seed cracks. A shoot sprouts. The shoot reaches toward a light that’s not even visible. The shoot doesn’t stop at the hardship of mud, or stones, or pouring rain.
Slowly, hills turn from brown to green as shoot after shoot of brilliant, verdant grass pushes through the topsoil and finds the sought-for light.
A redwood lives for hundreds to thousands of years. Sequoias not only survive the ravages of fire, but rely upon that fire to create a healthy ecosystem. Yet when you walk through a redwood forest, you can see the scars left behind by fire after fire. You may see a tree with its whole core burnt and rotten, disintegrated, just a shell left behind–yet the tree still grows!
When the fire is burning, the long-term picture is not where your focus generally gravitates. But when you gaze into your past, you can often see the good that came of a challenging or painful experience.
Even in the times where something wonderful did not come of a difficult situation, you still have the choice in how to respond.
Growth is not always a graceful process. We know this. In teenage years the body grows out of control; gangly arms and legs knock into tables and chairs, and muscles burn with the searing pain of a growth-spurt.
Grace enters when you can recognize the fact that painful moments do pass, and that in their wake some good is often revealed. Pain is unavoidable, but as the saying goes, suffering is optional.
So feel the fire and know that it’s clearing out the underbrush. Feel your skin stretch as you reach toward the sun. Feel your muscles ache with exertion as they grow stronger. Feel it all, and do these things that may ache, knowing the reward of growth will be great.
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