Dealing with the Deadness

Between travels and my busy schedule recently, I haven’t been able to get to the gym for my exercise classes. So, this weekend, I made a point of forcing myself out of the house a couple times a day to walk the wooded paths nearby – I need the exercise, the fresh air, the vitamin D, and the break from my computer screen.

And as I hiked, I was inspired again by the trees.

I’ve written about the trees on these trails, I’m sure. They are SO lovely. I suspect if you flew in a helicopter above this area, you would see a sea of green – healthy, leafy branches reaching to the sun for nourishment.

But the view from below is quite different. From below, you have to strain a bit to see the green growth at the top. What you are surrounded by from below are the old dead branches. See the picture here? Imagine trees growing to two or three times this size and surrounding you as you walk. They are beautiful and cozy . . . and thought-provoking.

Y’all, these trees. They are us.

We all have some dry deadness at the bottom of our souls. The mistakes, the failures, the wounds, the brokenness. The world may see the sea of green from a top view, but we’re all aware of what’s beneath that.

But let me encourage you, friends, that we need to allow others to walk those paths below – we don’t need to hide that past deadness from the world. My 7^th graders read a poem this week called “Keepsakes” by Deloras Lane. The speaker in the poem tells her niece that “those grey hairs are mistakes I made / and spun into lessons / of silver thread.” There is no shame in where we’ve been, as long as we aren’t stuck there but are continuing to grow.

However, growth sometimes requires pruning. I also noticed this weekend all the dead branches lying around. Some tiny ones, but some huge, weighty branches that took a lot out when they crashed to the ground.

And how did they come down? Well, for some of them, I suspect the tree simply wasn’t giving them enough nutrients anymore to maintain the connection, and they fell of their own weight. And that’s a good lesson. We sometimes need to stop feeding those old dead branches with our attention and fears and guilt. Let them go. They are unnecessary dead weight. Focus your energy on the new growth above.

But some of those branches needed outside help to come off: help in the form of storms. The violent winds did them in. And some of those big ones knocked down other dead limbs on their way down – even from other trees.

The storms of life have their purpose, friends. God wouldn’t allow them if they didn’t. And one purpose may be to get rid of the lingering deadness that we haven’t been able to shed ourselves of – and need to. I’ve experienced this; some of you may have, too.

I’m glad spring is here . . . I really need to walk more. I learn so much.