Last Saturday evening, my family and I watched from our window as dark, ominous clouds rolled in. We anticipated lightning and thunder, drenching rain and hail. But all we were entertained by that night were some forcefully high winds.
Blatant disrespecting the towering deciduous trees, the wind attacked for a short but potent time. The bare branches gave off the impression of vulnerability, as they threateningly waved over homes. We expected any one of them to snap under the pressure that was beating against them. Yet to our anticlimactic amazement, it was in our own yard, a lone, large pine tree that slumped over in the midst of the storm.
Unfortunately at times I mirror that isolated pine tree. I look sturdy; I’m not whipping as uncontrollably in the gusts. I feel somehow invincible watching the others as they visibly sway, with wild fervor, and I silently applaud my own strength. But it seems that attitude—that criticism of others—is a warning. I’m ignoring my own weaknesses, and I need to humbly remember I too could be the one to break.
We don’t always know where the toughest winds will blow, or whom they will affect the most. Growing roots is an unavoidably slow process, but the work is life-giving. The stately evergreen in my yard appeared more stable, but a lone tree is more susceptible to fall than one in a group. So patiently, wisely create a firm foundation and don’t stand alone. In a forest of support, we will be more prepared for life’s impending storms.