It was above the timber line. The steady march of the forest had stopped as if some invisible barrier had been erected beyond which no trees dared move even in a single file. Beyond was barrenness, sheer rocks, snow patches and strong untrammeled winds. Here and there were short tufts of evergreen bushes that had somehow managed to survive despite the severe pressures under which they had to live. They were not lush, they lacked the kind of grace of the vegetation below the timer line, but they were alive and hardy.
Upon close investigation, however, it was found that these were not ordinary shrubs. The formation of needles, etc., was identical with that of the trees farther down; as a matter of fact, they looked like branches of the other trees. When one actually examined them, the astounding revelation was that they were branches. For, hugging the ground, following the shape of the terrain, were trees that could not grow upright, following the pattern of their kind. Instead, they were growing as vines grow along the ground, and what seemed to be patches of stunted shrubs were rows of branches of growing, developing trees. What must have been the tortuous frustration and stubborn battle that had finally resulted in this strange phenomenon!
It was as if the tree had said, “I am destined to reach for the skies and embrace in my arms the wind, the rain, the snow and the sun, singing my song of joy to all the heavens. But this I cannot do. I have taken root beyond the timber line, and yet I do not want to die; I must not die. I shall make a careful survey of the situation and work out a method, a way of life, that will yield growth and development for me despite the contradictions under which I must eke out my days.
In the end I may not look like the other trees, I may not be what within me cries out to be. But I will not give up. I will use to the full every resource in me and about me to answer life with life. In so doing, I shall affirm that this is the kind of universe that sustains, upon demand, the life that is in it.” I wonder if I dare to act even as the tree acts. I wonder! I wonder! Do you?
This meditation was called to our attention by Samaritan therapist John Baumann, MDiv, LMHC. John says: “I was introduced to Howard Thurman in 1995, some 14 years after his funeral. Reading his biography brought a sense of wonder at the grace-filled and graceful manner in which he lived. He spoke of offering a meditation a half hour before each Sunday service and discovering that calls for counseling began dropping. I quickly ordered his book, Meditations of the Heart. I find myself returning to it from time to time and each time I find a new jewel. As always, the jewel seems to shine ever brighter as I read and reflect again and again.”
