From a distance, the willow tree looked asleep. A warm breeze brushed against my skin as I stood upon the hillside overlooking the farmhouse and its sentinel. Standing twice the height of the old house, it moved not a twig; perceptible to my eyes, at least. Of its age, I have wondered, yet I know the tree has stood likely just a fraction of the time of its house and the barn. Of a younger generation, no doubt, still it slept like an old Giant. Its legs and arms, hung long and limp. Its leaves folded and sagged like a dress upon some great, elven lady.
But why did its personage grab my attention? Perhaps its size - monumental in the retired farm yard. Perhaps its unexpected stillness against a breeze.
I wonder, only to recall earlier today the sense that I had of becoming like a restless toddler. You know the one: he has over-exerted himself as a bundle of energy all day long, and, now, he desperately needs to be silent in his parent's arms, but willfully wrestles against his physical need. Finally, exhausted, he gives into sleep. That was the "thing" needed, after all. And I am that child, most days. I cannot say that sleep was the "thing" I have most needed (although, sometimes it is that simple), but a rest and a satisfaction that comes, and only can come, rather, when one's will is trained to abide within beauty and truth; and to love, and to wisely choose those deeply right, good things of life. It has taken some time, but I have found those things to be ones directly related to eternity - to Christ. Is that not from where beauty and truth spring?
You know, there is something about goodness and beauty, no matter how far your choices or sin have removed you from their touch, which draw you back like a hungry boy to his grandmother's warm buttermilk biscuits and fresh, iced milk. Or a moth to light-filled windowpanes. Or a woman to her knees before her God who loves far better than she once had allowed herself to hope.
A loving parent does not allow his child to eat all the candy at one sitting, you see, and he even asks his child to eat his "good food" before the desserts. He does not forbid desserts, generally, but does things orderly and with kind intent. Why is this? Is it to be mean or a tease? Of course not. Is it not to train their tastes to love that which is good food? But there is so much in my life, surrounding me daily that I can choose, and like an immature child, untrained and undisciplined in my desires, I fool myself every time, nearly. Except for God's grace, it's that way.
The remedy? That I turn to God, once more, and, like a dear friend has told me, "Just show up." It makes all the difference when its just you and God, the dependent asking the Sovereign to train his own will to love the good, the best. (The old hymn said it imperatively: Trust and obey, for there's no other way ... ." How it's true, but I see my heart trips along rather disagreeably, thus, back to the issue of dependence I go, and its remedy.)
So what does the great Elven Lady have to do with any of this? She struck a pose, of rumpled dress and repose, a friend who rose before me. A bit of nature helping me to think through these things, perhaps? I hope you could see her, and I hope you can envision a child resting peacefully as he ought in a setting that allows such peace, upon the breast of a parent who knows well what is needed; and I hope you can find yourself being cared and tended to by a loving God who trains not only as the psalmist said, "my hands for war," but our souls for beauty and rest.
