Signs of Spring

Personifying trees and strengthening faith

It’s spring here in the southern hemisphere.

While September 1st is the official start date of the season, signs of rebirth began long before the calendar declared its sanctioned arrival. Warmer days had already crept in, the swooping and chattering of birds already splattered the background of a bright blue sky, nature was looking greener, lusher seemingly overnight. September 1st was merely a formality to a creation that was begging to burst out in praise to its Maker.

Lining our long driveway on either side is a row of Liquidambar trees, also known as Sweetgum trees. These trees were what sold me on this house. I remember gasping audibly as we pulled into the driveway for the first time, the tree branches waving their hellos to us as we passed by. Missing the autumnal celebrations of the northern hemisphere, imagine my surprise and delight when one day spots of red and brown began to spread across their bushy tops.

Being deciduous, their leaves turn every autumn, acting as a colorful runway showing guests the way to our house. The leaves then fall throughout early winter only to regrow and start the whole cycle over again in the spring.

Needing no calendar as reminder, the trees’ instincts take over and new buds begin forming, then blooming, then swaying gently in the breeze. I go for a walk one day and I can see all the trees began the process right as expected.

All except one.

There is one tree that seems to have missed the memo that warmer days are here.

It is typically the last to drop its leaves and now it’s the last to bear new ones. While all the other trees surrounding it are bright and full, this one seems to have overslept its alarm.

I walk back up the driveway to my house, making note of the difference. And I begin to wonder, does this tree know?

I wonder if this tree feels behind, as if every other neighboring tree knew the schedule before she did. I wonder if she’s worried about hitting this major milestone so slowly, worried she may never catch up.

Does she feel a pang of jealousy, comparing her bare branches to the fuller ones of her friends? Does she feel as if God is holding back the goodness and abundance He had promised her as punishment, like she isn’t as deserving? Does she wonder what she did wrong, if there is something wrong with her?

I wonder if she works harder to produce. I wonder if she feels disappointed in her lack of abilities to keep up.

But I continue on my walk. She is, after all, just a tree. I make my way back inside the house, back to the same old problems looming over me, back to the hustle and bustle of getting nowhere fast.

I scroll through social media, seeing full branches with every photo and post. And I ask God, “Have I missed out?”

A week later, I see the white branches are now dappled in green buds.

In the days that follow, the leaves come one by one. Like the slow dawning of the day, they unfold, their spiny fingers uncurling and reaching all around them. Her green branches begin to sway in the breeze as if to signal that there was nothing to worry about.

New life came after all. The cycle continues.

Renewal may have seemed delayed, yet there is no stopping what God has ordained.

And as I walk back into my house, same problems greeting me at the door, I remember the trees and look to my God. What may seem like delayed resolution in my perspective is just preparation in God’s eyes.

I may feel behind, forgotten, unsure of my next steps, but truth tells me I am not forsaken. Because "they that sow in tears shall reap in joy.”¹ No moment of confusion or sorrow is wasted. Each tear that falls from our face is used to water the soil where the seeds of joy await their time to sprout and produce a plentiful harvest.

Your wait is not wasted. It is producing an enduring faith, a hope in God that cannot easily be swayed.

And when we have a hard time remembering, may we look to the trees as they testify that God does not forget the seeds He has planted inside of you long ago. The blooms of your patient faith are on the way.

“Every grace of God is a seed, which He intends should produce a thousand fold in the hearts of genuine believers. We do not so much require more grace from God, as the cultivation of what we have received… Let the light and gladness be faithfully cultivated, and they will multiply themselves till the whole body shall be full of light, and the whole soul of happiness.”

Adam Clarke

the miscellany

All the random things from this past month

• something we’re reading: I am currently studying through the book of Revelation using the All Nations, Tribes, People, and Tongues study from Phylicia Masonheimer, and have just picked up The Christian's Secret of a Happy Life by Hannah Whitall Smith

• something we’re looking forward to: We are now officially in the school spring holidays (2 whole weeks off!) and we plan to do a bit of traveling. We’ll be headed up to the Sunshine Coast in Queensland for a few days and have the Big Pineapple on our list of things to see. If you’re wondering what in the world I’m talking about, the Big Things are, well, a big thing here in Australia. They are large statues that are scattered throughout the country that usually represent something that the town can claim as their own (for example, our area is known for koalas and so we have The Big Koala nearby). They started in the 60’s as a way to generate tourism. I didn’t understand the hype when I first visited the country, but after 3 years here I think I’m starting to get it! So far, we’ve seen the Big Oyster, Big Banana, Big Koala, Big Prawn, and the Big Mower (mostly because they were just in our area or on our way to our destination). I’m pretty excited to add the Big Pineapple to the list!

• something we’re making: It’s been a while since I’ve shared a recipe so here’s an easy and delicious favorite - Pork Tenderloin with Dijon Cream Sauce. Pair it with these Garlic Butter Smashed Potatoes smothered in the Dijon cream sauce and trust me, you’ll be wishing you had leftovers!

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1. Psalm 126:5