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Not long ago, I cut down two trees in my back yard. I left five to six inches of stump on each one of them so that the stump would be easier to get out of the ground. When I finished cutting, these two trees were finished, done, no longer trees. They were just stumps. You would think that they could take a hint. They were no longer wanted or needed. As a tree, if you don’t have branches, leaves, or trunk, then you don’t have much to live for or with. Yet those two stumps have refused to go quietly into the night.
From their perch at the top of our sloping back yard, they watched their life’s work burn to ashes. Every limb, log, and leaf went up in smoke. In the face of such devastation, they should have just gone on and called it quits. They did not do that though. Instead, they started sprouting. New stems and new leaves started to appear.
Amazing how those stumps insist on living when they have received absolutely no encouragement to do so. They just keep hanging on when there is so very little to hang on to. They seem to have a life wish.
Recently, I was sitting in an office waiting room. The office was made up of a therapist and a psychiatrist. As I waited, I could not help but notice those with whom I shared the waiting room. Occasionally, I caught bits and pieces of conversations; but not much, since there was not a lot of talking. Mostly there were gestures of apprehension and sighs of anxiety. At least, that is what I thought I was seeing and hearing. Perhaps I was just projecting the feelings that I would have if I had been the one waiting for an appointment.
As I watched people move in and out of the waiting room, I became aware that though I had made a choice to be there, for each of them, something had occurred upon being diagnosed that made life difficult — at least difficult enough that they sought help.
I have no way of knowing the challenges they were facing or the wounds for which they were seeking healing. In the same way, I have no idea the hurt their eyes had seen, nor the pain their ears had heard. That they were there told me that they were trying to cope with whatever their particular burden happened to be. They were trying to live.
The troubles in life that some people are able to overcome is amazing. They seem to have a wish for life, even when life has given them little encouragement in that direction. While their lives have not been easy, they insist on making the best of what they have. With despair all around them, they sprout new leaves and new stems when others might call it quits and throw in the towel.
God gives us life. We are most fully alive when we give our living back to God. Life presents challenges for all of us. At least we see them as challenges, even if they are not so difficult as to cause us to seek professional help. Nevertheless, considering the gift of life that God has given to each of us, is there any reason that we should not make a conscious decision each day to live, to be fully alive? Even though no one has cut us down or burned us up, does that mean that we should not be growing, sprouting, and wishing to live each day?
Joy and peace,
Ed
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