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Gnarled Tree

We were passing by a playground the other day and saw a child with her grandmother there playing by a gnarly old tree. The little girl was clearly taken up by its strange beauty - its limbs contorted and spread out close to the ground, making it easy to climb. The tree was old with a huge trunk and branches curled around to act like steps. We heard grandma laugh and say "You love that tree, don't you?" and the child replied gleefully "Yes, I do!". They were both smiling and laughing enjoying the gift of this unique tree that was so accessible, easy to love. 

As we walked away, I could not help thinking about the many slings and arrows of outrageous fortune that tree must have endured to be hobbled to its knee, the innumerable burls on its trunk and branches that were signs of trauma and suffering. It was older than any other tree nearby. Its decades of silent pain and morphed into this spectacle of beauty and character that drew people to it. Maybe such too is the case with people who have suffered disproportionately in their lives - maybe they acquire an aura of splendor that draws others with more pedestrian lives into their orbit.

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