Along the edges of alpine meadows stand these sorts of trees. At elevations of 6000+ feet, they are weighed down with snow for many months of the year, and they grow very slowly. A tree this size might be close to 30 years old but barely shoulder high.
But God designed them for resilience. Despite the snow that threatens to snuff them out, these amazing little things continue to seek the sun. They bow under the weight of the snow, but they also bend toward the light. And they survive — and thrive. This one shows this year’s new green growth on its tips!
I am amazed at the strength and perseverance of these little trees, and I love them. They give me hope that I too can survive and thrive as I bend, under the weight of sorrow, toward the Light of Christ. .
It’s been almost six months, and I still wake up many mornings and cry when I realize afresh he’s not beside me. But I am praying fiercely that I will be like these little trees. Bent but not crushed. Indelibly marked with my sorrow, but firmly planted in God’s faithful love. Finding new life as I turn my face toward the warm and nourishing Light of Christ. “I have set the Lord always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.” (Psalm 16:8)