MAGIC TREES
On a visit to Joshua Tree, I looked around at the drab dirt, dotted with scraggly, plain trees, and thought to myself: “How ugly and desolate!” I wondered why this landscape appealed to anyone. I even announced to my travel companions that, if I were God, I would take a giant paintbrush and cover up this dreary wasteland with bright pink.
A few hours later, as day melted into night, pink streaks shot across the sky. A soft yellow glow illuminated the horizon and the sky dimmed to a stunning periwinkle hue. “Please, stop the car!” I implored, running out to see the Joshua Trees, whose dark silhouettes now seemed to dance across the sunset. In this moment, the trees looked like people huddled together, in fine costumes, celebrating the spectacular sky. I was then reminded of the countless times in my life when what He has in store for me is greater than what I’d imagined.
As I reflect on today’s Gospel, I am reminded of chapters where I’ve felt “barren” and “empty,” standing in “lava waste.” These are times when I’ve crafted my own plans, and wrapped them around myself so tightly, like a suffocating net. I often build up grand schemes in my head and perch my happiness on top of them. But in this precarious place, I can’t enjoy the “change of season” because I crumble in the face of professional derailments, romantic disappointments, or other unwanted outcomes.
Today’s Gospel serves as a beautiful reminder that when we trust in the Lord, and place our hope in Him, we don’t need to fear the drought, or the heat. We become evergreen, nourished by living water, and comforted by the earth turning force of God’s love.
Lord, Help me to anchor my joy to you.
Laura Reilly