Like A Willow

I have always loved Willow trees. As a child I spent many hours nestled under the branches of our big old Willow tree. The branches cascaded to the ground leaving a wonderful cavern around the truck for tea parties and baby dolls. I mostly felt safe sheltered under the shade of Willow's gentle flowing arms. I remember, even as a very young child, being awed by a row of Willows near a creek. They were so graceful as they swayed with the wind and reached out with their roots to grasp the flowing water.

I still feel that connection with the Willow. If I am trying to hide my identity my user name is usually Willow...oops, now you know. I believe many times I am underestimated...like a Willow. The Willow gives the appearance of being weak and fragile. The trunk is small and the branches are thin. It is not until a storm blows that you see the strength of the Willow. The thin truck is pliable and the branches move and stretch with the wind. Ever bending, never breaking. However, the real strength of the Willow lies underneath. As thin as it is on top, it is as deep underneath. The roots of the willow run long and wide, holding the willow in place during the attacks from the violent storms.

Like a Willow my strength comes from being deeply rooted in Christ's Love. "Stand firm and be deeply rooted in His love" Eph 3:17. Ever growing and reaching for water...the living water of Christ. "They are strong, like a tree planted by a river" Psalm 1:3. Like a Willow I choose to bend and not break when the raging storm of life's challenges come my way. I choose to look for Jesus in the midst of my storm.

There are many storms raging around me lately. We are still waiting for my daughter's pathology report. The last one went from here, to Chicago, to Mayo because they were not sure if it was Melanoma. I suspect this one is making the same route. It looks like I might have had a mild heart attack a few weeks ago. My EKG was abnormal and I will be seeing a cardiologist Wednesday. It is getting more and more difficult to get around, but I will choose to look for Jesus.

He is there to give me shelter from the storm.He is there giving me the strength to make it another day. He is there as the Holy Spirit inspires me in the Word. He is there in the comfort and guidance of a friend. You just need look to see Him. "For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened." Luke 11:10

The Oak and The Willow

In a field, there was an oak at one end, and a willow-tree at the other. Whenever a wind moved through the field, the willow swayed in the wind, while the oak remained unmoved. When this happened, the willow said to itself, “I wish I was as strong as the Oak, instead of bending over with every breeze“ then one day a large windstorm whipped through the field.

When the storm passed, and the darkness lifted, the willow looked across the field, and was shocked to discover that the oak was laying on the ground, broken. When the Gardener came into the field, the willow said, “Oh sir, what happened to the Oak? How is it that I survived the storm, weak as I am, and the Oak fell?”

The Gardener said, “Oh little willow-tree, do you not understand what happened? When the winds blow, you bend with them, while the oak remains still. So when a really powerful wind comes along, you can bend with the wind, and survive it. But the Oak cannot bend, and so if the wind is strong enough, it will break. For the Oak had a secret, a weakness within that no one looking at the outside could see. And the Gardener went on his way, leaving the willow to ponder what he said.

Moral: Strength within and strength without are not the same, and one should cultivate strength within first. Also, when the winds of life blow, bend, and you may survive the real storms when they come. Try and resist them, and when the real storms come, you may break instead.

The Buckwheat

VERY often, after a violent thunder-storm, a field of buckwheat appears blackened and singed, as if a flame of fire had passed over it. The country people say that this appearance is caused by lightning; but I will tell you what the sparrow says, and the sparrow heard it from an old willow-tree which grew near a field of buckwheat, and is there still. It is a large venerable tree, though a little crippled by age. The trunk has been split, and out of the crevice grass and brambles grow. The tree bends for-ward slightly, and the branches hang quite down to the ground just like green hair. Corn grows in the surrounding fields, not only rye and barley, but oats,—pretty oats that, when ripe, look like a number of little golden canary-birds sitting on a bough. The corn has a smiling look and the heaviest and richest ears bend their heads low as if in pious humility.

Once there was also a field of buckwheat, and this field was exactly opposite to old willow-tree. The buckwheat did not bend like the other grain, but erected its head proudly and stiffly on the stem. “I am as valuable as any other corn,” said he, “and I am much handsomer; my flowers are as beautiful as the bloom of the apple blossom, and it is a pleasure to look at us. Do you know of anything prettier than we are, you old willow-tree?” And the willow-tree nodded his head, as if he would say, “Indeed I do.” But the buckwheat spread itself out with pride, and said, “Stupid tree; he is so old that grass grows out of his body.”

There arose a very terrible storm. All the field-flowers folded their leaves together, or bowed their little heads, while the storm passed over them, but the buckwheat stood erect in its pride. “Bend your head as we do,” said the flowers.
“I have no occasion to do so,” replied the buckwheat.

“Bend your head as we do,” cried the ears of corn; “the angel of the storm is coming; his wings spread from the sky above to the earth beneath. He will strike you down before you can cry for mercy.”

“But I will not bend my head,” said the buckwheat.

“Close your flowers and bend your leaves,” said the old willow-tree. “Do not look at the lightning when the cloud bursts; even men cannot do that. In a flash of lightning heaven opens, and we can look in; but the sight will strike even human beings blind. What then must happen to us, who only grow out of the earth, and are so inferior to them, if we venture to do so?”

“Inferior, indeed!” said the buckwheat. “Now I intend to have a peep into heaven.” Proudly and boldly he looked up, while the lightning flashed across the sky as if the whole world were in flames.

When the dreadful storm had passed, the flowers and the corn raised their drooping heads in the pure still air, refreshed by the rain, but the buckwheat lay like a weed in the field, burnt to blackness by the lightning. The branches of the old willow-tree rustled in the wind, and large water-drops fell from his green leaves as if the old willow were weeping.

Then the sparrows asked why he was weeping, when all around him seemed so cheerful. “See,” they said, “how the sun shines, and the clouds float in the blue sky. Do you not smell the sweet perfume from flower and bush? Wherefore do you weep, old willow-tree?” Then the willow told them of the haughty pride of the buckwheat, and of the punishment which followed in consequence.

This is the story told me by the sparrows one evening when I begged them to relate some tale to me.

Hans Christian Andersen (1842)