I’ve planted trees of the worst of winters. Trees as empty and bare as they come. The lies I’ve told, the words I’ve spoken. The bitterness I’ve held inside. The judgments my heart held tight. I remember each leaf that fell, as my heart turned cold, as in the depths of hell where barren trees belong. The days I pushed my Lord away, I walk alone as if it were the coldest winter day. The days were dark the winds seemed to never stop blowing. I was caught in the current of the river that flows by the dead tree orchard. The dark clouds that are a constant reminder of the season I’m in, yet in my insanity I continue to plant empty trees. Trees that belong in a graveyard of the wicked.
Seasons change and so can I as I remember the trees I’ve planted in my past. Trees of strength and glory, trees so big one could climb to the top and see the world. Trees as green as the rain Forrest. Trees that flourished because they were watered by the hand of God. Trees of true heart, true light, and true beauty, trees of conviction! Trees that were planted by the choice to serve, to love, to forgive , to give. Trees that opened my heart so bare that all I knew was to care. The warmth of the sun shinning down on me spoke of Gods pleasure. Today I’m planting my first good tree of this season, hoping to never see an empty tree in my orchard again.