In Quietness and Trust

 

They arrived weeks ago, roots exposed, bagged in plastic. Three dwarf fruit trees: pear, apple and plum. Replanted carefully into three new pots, fed and watered: the watch began.

Then the frigid May weather hit, more like winter than like spring. I watched. I waited. They all appeared dead, but gradually, oh so gradually, the apple showed tiny signs of life. The pear began to prickle with incipient green.

But the plum tree! It remained stoic and lifeless, day after day, week after week. Warm weather has, at last, arrived, and yesterday’s inspection yielded hope: tiny signs of life from way down the trunk. I’d not been examining the lower extremities, only the upper twig-like branches. Life sprouted where it was not expected, while I was looking elsewhere.

Hope restored, I am reminded how easy it is to look for life in the wrong places, and to lose heart when I see no signs. This day, Lord, set me free from arrogant assumptions. Open my eyes, my mind, and my heart, to see where life is breaking out. And as I think about growth, grow my trust in you, rooted in your faithfulness and love.

In this season, as the world awakens and stretches out tentatively, fearfully, may we all look up and inhale deep, receiving the breath of life and accepting the peace which comes from Jesus. May he guide us into a new way of living, and keep us from forgetting some of the hard-learned lessons of lock-down. Help us to be humble, to be kind and to show mercy and love. ‘In quietness and trust is your strength.’