It’s the most beautiful road. Curvy, rolling, a bit narrow, covering several miles through the Afton countryside. Hugged on both sides by mature ash, cottonwood, and oak trees creating a nearly full canopy over sections. In those sections, the trees reach and lean out, casting gray shadows and slivers of sunlight on the road. The way those branches stretch, I imagine it’s almost a burden to hold that position. Are they straining?

I love this drive, but on this particular day my mind is flooded with swirling thoughts and mini prayers of purpose, responsibility, parenthood. Mostly parenthood. Likely because thoughts of purpose often swirl into considerations of my current responsibilities which largely entail, you guessed it, parenting. Being a parent is one of God’s greatest, and most challenging, gifts in my life. The magnitude of it can be staggering at times. And as these children of mine grow into young adults, the effort of it shifts from the physically taxing to the sort that is more mental and emotional. Their little skinned knees and grocery store temper tantrums shift, over almost imperceptible time, to broken hearts and declarations of independence. But still hold my hand and my heart, Mom, while I go and be independent. Funny thing is, I’m not the only one holding hearts. I’m convinced each of my kids have a piece of my heart walking around out there without my direct protection.

As I round another curve of this beautiful road I ask God how it is I am to pursue my purpose when there is this great weight of responsibility, of being Mom to these kiddos of mine that are traveling their unique paths with unique needs. Unique paths so similar to this road I’m driving on, with frequent twists and turns that I enjoy, that I feel ever wary of as they approach, with some that surprise me altogether. It feels like I’m stretched, strained sometimes, challenged to hold the weight of it as gracefully as I’d like. But oh my gosh, the beauty of it all.

Matthew 11:28 – 30 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Perhaps I am like these branches, straining so hard to shelter the road these kiddos travel. Doing my best to keep the terrain safe, to shade them from the elements of life, to provide the right amount of all things that they need. Isn’t that what we are as parents? Shelter from the storm and shade from the heat? Using every bit of our resources to do the best job of it that we can? Is that really what is happening here?

What if these branches aren’t straining at all, but resting, in the exact position that God needs them in right now? None of them are bending to a broken state. Some are thick with heavy foliage, some thin and bare, others crooked with rugged bark, each with their own approach to reaching for the light. And upon closer examination, all seem to be resting quite gracefully. Almost as though they are being held in that position, truly resting. Exactly as God needs them right now, sheltering the road below. Content that for the moment, this is exactly their purpose.

Oh, the wisdom of trees.