Today we had an activity in our Spiritual Direction class here at Columbia Theological seminary where we were to go outside on a nature walk, spending time in nature to see what might shimmer for/to us as we asked our discernment question. As something caught our gaze, we were invited to bring our question to it and be available to the response.
When I came, my original question centered around healing-- 'how to heal?'. As I have reflected and listening, it still centers on healing. Yet, today, the question became 'how can I invite God into the pain?'
When I got outside, immediately I noticed magnolia tree leaves caught my attention and I headed toward the tree. It was a small tree without good climbing branches. It was still a pretty tree. As I looked around the pine straw filled floor and tree filled area, a tall pine tree caught my attention. My eyes followed the tall tree high into the air. This tree was the tallest one in the bunch. Ah, that magnolia tree was just to get me in here. Nice!
As I looked at this pine tree, I noticed that it had an injury, a scar, starting about 6' off the ground and going up to about 12'. That's it. Nothing below and nothing above. I was intrigued, mesmerized. It shimmered and caught my gaze. This tree was tall, straight, majestic. Yet it carried a wound from something from some point in time. It's growth had not stopped, but had continued.
I sat down on the ground where I could look up at it and study it more. The wind was beginning to blow a bit more and it looked like rain was coming in sooner than expected. Tiny drops began to fall, but the tree canopy covered me for the moment. I asked my question: "God, how can I invite you into the pain?" Then I wrote in my journal: "Creator God, I invite you into the pain. This tree-- it's the tallest one around. As the sap flows from a pine tree, I invite your healing balm to flow through me." As I sat there, one of those "wormy" pollen things fell on my journal. For me that was a recognition of new life. New beginnings.
I decided to get up from my seated position and walk around the tree. As I began to walk to my left, I noticed another scar, wound. It started higher than the first one, about mid-way up from it, but it stopped at about the same place. This one had a deeper and wider wound at the top.
I began to wonder about the scars and the wounds on the tree:
- What caused these deep wounds?
- How did it heal?
- How did it survive?
As I asked these questions, I realized that I didn't have answers for this particular tree. Yet, my curiosity led me to contact an arborist friend and send some photos. I also began to reflect on how my questions about the tree could also be applied to me. Oh. Hmmmm. Much like the magnolia tree was a way for me to see the pine tree, the pine tree was a way for me to see me. Oh, Creator God, you have a way with your creation.
In the moment, I knew that this pine tree represented for me a tree of life, my tree of life. I might not have all the answers yet, but I am on the journey.
The discernment process is a journey. My question may continue to change along the way. It's not about the destination, but the journey, so I'm good with that.
And healing? It has been my goal for a long time to be a wounded healer (as Henri Nouwen uses the term) rather than a wounded wounder, so all healing is welcome on the journey.
To observe the pine tree today and to see that it survived a difficult time in its life, that it kept on growing... that gave me hope and encouragement. Its scars and wounds are visible, yes. So are scars and wounds I have on my knee, my hip, my side, my feet. It is true that inner scars and wounds aren't visible. Yet, there are times and places where those, too, can become visible for the good of the kin-dom and the glory of the Creator.
I wanted to explore the topic of trees and wounds a little further.
I read a book about trees a while back, but it is at home-- Peter Wohlleben's The Hidden Life of Trees. Here is a podcast with him on the Joe Gardener show.
I looked up some information on tree wounds and found this resource: Tree Care Kit. One thing that struck me from this site is that trees don't heal, but rather they seal. They compartmentalize and/or create barrier zones and new tree life is able to occur with healthy tissue. Wow! Interesting.
I don't know what question(s) you might be carrying within you these days. I invite you to take a walk into nature with your question and see what catches your attention. What animate or inanimate thing draws your gaze? Spend time in thoughtful reflection. See what bubbles to the surface.
You never know what adventure you might encounter.
As I was leaving the pine tree, I encountered one lone Solomon Seal poking up from the pine straw. I haven't seen any Solomon Seal yet this season so that was a great find.
Not only did I encounter my tree of life today, but I also encountered some wisdom. [Solomon. Solomon Seal.] And having read that trees seal rather than heal, maybe there is a message in that from nature too. Hmmmm.
May time in nature open my eyes, my ears, all my senses to the Creator and all of creation in such a way that transforms my being and my doing to align more closely with the heart of God.
Rev. Deb
P.S. My journals are nature-themed: "Advice from Nature"
The journal that I'm currently using is a "Sun" journal. The "Tree" one is my 3rd one. I started with "River", then "Mountain", then "Tree", now "Sun".
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