The Tree | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: The Tree | Previous Challenge Entry
By jennifer torvalson
12/12/05
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
ADD TO MY FAVORITES

He had stood once, deeply amidst the forest in the time when trees where so thick that the branches of one were barely distinguishable from another. It was then that the earth mosses grew up to meet the tree limbs as they stretched downward. He had heard the primeval symphony that was the song of the wild. Though he had seen this untamed wilderness adorned in beauty, what dominated his remembrance was its savagery. He had seen the forces of nature battle each other; had seen hart succumb to wolf, the hare to the hawk, the weaker to the mighty. He had seen each animal, majestic in their own right, acknowledge their defeat and give themselves up to satisfy their foes’ barbaric hunger.

He had looked on as the woods receded, as the wars of nature gave way to the wars of man. He had stood witness to a savagery more cruel than any of the wild, one that appeased an entirely different hunger. Fear and hatred had permeated the air, pressing down on the forest insomuch that all the living creatures bore its horror as agony tinged screams rang out through the darkness. Emblazed in his memory were the flickers of fire and the cut glass reflections of stark white sheets in the eyes of those too cowardly to show their faces. Nor had he forgotten the dull lifeless eyes of the proud and the wretched as they swung from the tree limbs nearby.

And yet he was not without his joyous memories. Time had passed, and with it the worst of the sadness and the shame. He was amongst the forest green glorying in the crisp breeze while the leaves made merriment, first bowing then spinning in their ancient dance. There he had seen fond lovers seek their privacy; to hold hands, embrace tightly and whisper of distant and near tomorrows. He witnessed a young tree as it bore its pain bravely; a jagged knife clumsily immortalizing love upon its bark; near splitting with pride in the tattoo he would bear to commemorate their affection, far after even they had forgotten.

With each year that passed more of the emerald forest faded yet, he lingered, ever watchful. He found in those days an even greater measure of happiness. They had been the days of the children whose laughter reached the little woods before their feet did, whose smiles had nourished the trees as much as the morning dew. Who, with each sweep of the old worn tire through the air, erased a ghostly memory that had been squirreled away in the hidden hollows of the forest all those years ago.

With the turn of time, he grew wiser having seen the world as only one of his kind could. Each year was marked distinctly; a lesson gleaned, a lesson taught, for though he was a silent sentinel he was far from unspeaking or unhearing. He had given ear to all the tears, terrors, and delights of his people; remaining steadfast in the duty bestowed upon him by his Master. Although his portion was small, his part to play was no less grand then any other’s. He spoke to those who would hear him; in the whispers of the wind, in the rustling of the leaves and as he released his bounty to the earth only to have it reborn in his arms each year. He was a living parable. All of creation is; each a living testimony to Christ, each bearing as many lessons for life as we dare to look for.

And as the tree stood in the place designed for him by the Creator Himself, his thoughts lit over the seasons of his life, and the sun moved overhead to shine on him.
Seated on a bench worn dull, barely below his lowest branches, sat a man whose nervousness belied his age. His glasses perched precariously upon his nose, the man fidgeted, seriously tempting the bible and notepad balanced upon his lap off kilter. His brow was furrowed and a pen was clenched tight between his teeth with no chances of escape until he wrote, “Be as long-suffering as the old tree. Emulate his steadfastness. Stand firm through the buffetings of the storm. Though there will be harsh and cold winters of faith and circumstance, the spring will come and bring with it a renewal. Be also, slow to judge and speak out but quick to listen and hear. Stand quietly learning, and gleaning knowledge……………..

PREVIOUS ENTRY | NEXT ENTRY
SUBMIT YOUR ENTRY FOR THIS WEEK'S CHALLENGE

The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.

If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be right now. CLICK HERE

JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.