That’s a Beautiful Sprout

All Was As It Should Be

It had been years since the forest fire had swept through the canyon and up the hill, where Samuel the Fir and Johanna the Spruce were firmly rooted. The red sun had made its climb dozens of times and both Samuel and Johanna had counted the days, waiting to see if their brother Hershel would survive. He had been silent these many days, even though both Samuel and Johanna creaked and groaned in the breeze, seeking any kind of life in their friend. Needles fell to the ground relentlessly, but still they never gave up hope, and the wind created a new kind of sound in Herschel’s branches.

It was a lonely sound, but still, they held onto their faith — knowing that Herschel was firmly planted and had roots that grew very deep. On this one day, the sun rose like every other time — but there was something different in the wind. The sound of the wind on Hershel’s branches was not as abrasive as it had been, and his color seemed to be changing from the burnt black to some conflicting shades of green and grey. It was then that Johanna saw a ripple in the soil beneath Hershel’s feet, a bulge here and a break there.

Samuel was not surprised, he had wisdom of being the oldest and had experienced many such historic fires. He was more amused at the change in their dear brother’s composure. He realized the day had arrived, and although Hershel’s frame would fall to the ground and leave nothing but a charred stump — that beneath the ground, he had used the life God had given him to nurture the roots and drink the deep waters. Hershel broke free of his earthen bondage, that held his roots in check — and within a couple more sun rises, a tree, not new by any means — but a fresh start.

Though his scorched frame, just inches away — would disappear, Hershel would begin a new stretch of his life. He would reach and groan for the moon and stars, with a new body — a new fresh start, but now filled with experience and wisdom. Even the ground tingled at the thought of life, pushing through its soil. And those that saw him, would say — now there’s a beautiful sprout.

According to tradition, they gave thanks to the red son up above — that pours life upon their branches and soon all was at it should be.

Special Note: This story was birthed out of a dream and a painting by a young lady that has battled cancer for sometime, and many times has been told — she hasn’t much time to live. But God knows better.