Trio

There's a sliding glass door in our bedroom that leads to the back yard. I wasn't too excited about this when we first looked at the house, but knowing that we can change it out for some swanky french doors someday, I got over it.

This past month as I've lived with disappointment along with the Never Ending Bronchitis, I spent more time than usual laying in my bed. Whining, I admit.

Right outside the door, past the little deck and the little walkway, is a tree. It has three trunks coming from the same place in the ground.



I've been looking at this tree a lot. I've seen it in the morning when the sun is just coming up. I've seen it soaked with rain. I've seen it in the wash from the porch light at night.

This past weekend I was in bed. Again. Trying to sleep a little while my boys were in the backyard. I looked out and through the openings in the trunks I saw framed my sweet little boy playing with his log and my dear husband digging holes for new plants. It was windy, so as I watched, leaves blew on the grass and from the trees.

That tree has become a healing presence for me. In it I see the three of us, rooted together. Rooted together deeply so that we have the strength to withstand any wind that comes our way.