Under The Willow Tree

Maybe we’ve taken for granted the gift that life is. Perhaps we’ve doubted that the Giver of this life is good because of the things we’ve each gone through.

There has never been a promise within the Bible that following God would be an easy-going life. But the Bible speaks upon the GOODNESS of God.

I’ll admit there has felt like a fog in life over the past year, where I had become jaded towards God and in my time with Him didn’t want much to do with Him because I was hurt, disappointed, grieved, angry, and just at a loss. 

His invitation was clear “Beloved, will you let me comfort you, heal you, and birth new dreams again?”

I didn’t want Him. I didn’t want Him to come close for fear of being hurt again. However, I still chose to come to Him, often times just laying on the floor of my room listening to one worship song and saying “I’m still not ready.” 

That was, until one day, I was listening to the same worship song, eyes closed and an image kept coming to mind - me under a willow tree, Jesus comes up to me and asks “Can I join you?” I nod at Him in my reluctant state, and all He did was sit there, joining me in silence. All I could do was weep, because here was the Man I’d given everything to and yet what I received in return seemed like only pain for so long.

In the image I saw Him simply grab my hand and in that moment I lost it, crying out “Why?!? Why did you lead me towards a direction only to surrender it? Why did my grandpa and one of my dear friends die shortly apart from another? Why should I trust you?”

He looked with such tenderness towards me, and wiped my tears from my eyes, saying “Beloved we are under a willow tree because it symbolizes both loss and hope. It not only shows the grief that has laid in your heart for some time now but also an endurance that says you won’t give up. Willows too share that, withstanding hardships. But you take a piece of the tree and plant it, it is easy for it to take root and to give life again. 

And Beloved, new life is what I have for you.”

In that moment I had a decision to make, did I believe that He is GOOD or not? I could either let my grief and allow my emotions to dictate my truth or I could go back to the Word and the testimony of what He has done throughout my life and lean into that.

I didn’t want to, I wanted to wallow in my emotions. I wanted to remain cold towards God because the weight of the grief I’d been holding onto wasn’t something I was ready to let go of, because if I released the grief to Him it was like I was letting go of what I felt justified to carry.

I took a deep breath, now not in the vision but just in my room, still on the floor. I remember just whispering “okay.” 

Since that day it’s been a slow process of a softening of my heart, it’s like I could feel the casing around it begin to crack and break. This didn’t mean I just shoved down my feelings, rather it meant returning to that place under the willow tree with Jesus and talk with Him about the anger, disappointment, sadness…

But to also talk about my grandfather, my friend Schuylar, the team I thought I was going to be apart of, the nation, people, and dreams I had been praying for…

It meant choosing daily to come. Some days it was and has been easier than others, most often I still find myself on the floor listening to a song, be that worship, a favorite of my friend Schuylar’s or my grandpa’s and just crying remembering the memories attached to them. Holding onto the sweetness of who they are, and learning to live in memory of them. 

There was one evening I was watching the sunset on the beach of where I was at. Sitting alone and just looking at the beauty of it, and there wasn’t anything more beautiful than that particular sunset. It could have matched the beauty of anything in the world ten times over it seemed. Because no matter what happened that day, or what I was wrestling with or feeling you could feel the tension of the day drifting away and out to sea. I remember wanting to memorize it all, because I didn’t know when I would see a sunset like that again, just as a person. 

That’s where I’ve been learning the beauty of grief, the remembering, the feeling of it all. Because trying to contain it only traps oneself into the depths of holding onto something, or someone we were never supposed to in the first place. Rather, grieving is taking a piece of that willow tree and planting it into the earth where new life will spring forth if we dare allow it to. Not forgetting the memories, or the beauty, or the life well lived but rather taking hold of what was beautiful and allowing that to grow for others to behold.