Trees Part 5

July 18, 2026

I sit in the silence of my backyard this morning. The stillness is broken only by the cheerful chatter of birds and the rustling of squirrels. In this quiet, I look out at the trees.

They are still too. The towering oaks, the magnolias, the Virgilia, and the tulip trees—all living, standing, growing, and reaching. Most of them have been here for decades. Some I planted, some were here long before I came to this place. Regardless of their age, there is something wise about them, something ancient and steady. They do not hurry. They do not strive to be noticed. They simply stand in the fullness of who they are. And in their standing, they teach me. They teach me the art of being.

I have come to realize that before we can learn the art of loving, we must first learn the art of being. Being is the capacity to exist fully, to express our nature truthfully, and to live in relationship with all that surrounds us. When we know how to be, and to be consciously, we discover that we are not separate from life. We belong to it and can therefore love it intentionally. 

Trees are masters of this.

They stand. They stand unflinchingly. They stand unflinchingly in all conditions. They stand unflinchingly in all conditions and give. They stand unflinchingly in all conditions and give air, shade, fruit, flowers, beauty, shelter, and a place for others to call home. In simply being, they express their divine nature. They bear witness to the life force moving through them—the same life force moving through us. Without uttering a word, their presence says:

I am life.

And in saying this, they remind us of something we so easily forget. We too are life. We, too, are created to stand. We, too, are created to grow. We, too, are created to give. We, too, are created to become a sheltering presence in the world. Trees do not sleepwalk through their existence as we so often do. They seem wholly present to what they are. Since they were seedlings, they have been slowly and faithfully becoming what they were created to be. They do not compare themselves with the tree beside them. They do not apologize for their branches. They do not despair because storms come. They receive the sun. They endure the rain. They bend in the wind. They deepen their roots. They keep growing toward the light.

This is their wisdom—

They tell us that we do not have to sleepwalk through our lives. We can become conscious of who we are and of the sacred world around us. We can remember that our lives, too, are rooted in mystery and reaching toward heaven. We can trust that the same force that grows the tree is also growing us. Since we were seedlings, we too have been called to become who we were created to be.

So, this morning I sit among the trees in my backyard. Their silence speaks. I receive their wisdom. And once again, they teach me how to be.

Prayer

Dear God, in the stillness among your trees, teach me to stand, to grow, to give, and to be.

Amen