Trees of Grace

What is the greatest insurance policy we can ever have?

My soul’s garden sits exposed upon a windy hill.

My precious plants are seared by ceaseless chill.

Others around me are suffering from similar plight:

Withered blooms everywhere, everywhere in sight.


When life’s storms come crashing ‘gainst the brae,

And lashing rain flattens the sward with icy spray,

Can we Canute-like roar aloud our righteous ire,

As if effort alone could make us Creation’s Sire.


We might opt to dig down into a pit of selfish clay,

Only to ruin what our nature was meant to display.

Better to live bracing the elements, both fine and foul,

Than to deny our heartscape, and throw in the towel.


Might we then find shelter by building walls of wealth,

Though walls cast shadows, restricting light and health?

And walls divide, creating barriers, even gates and locks:

Isolation taking the place of protection in a sad paradox.


What strategy, respectful of our nature, can we take?

What insurance might afford an effective windbreak?

The wise Gardener knows to plant a screen of trees,

That will make of the screaming gale a softer breeze.


Is not the greatest gift that parents can ever bestow,

To sow faith seeds that their child may come to know,

Both the boundaries of theirs’ and others’ sacred space,

And Him who gives life, growth, and every precious grace?