Life and Trees and Gnarled Thoughts

This morning I leaned on the rail of the balcony, coffee warm in hand, watching the last of the dark clouds scuttle across the horizon as the storm officially blew away. As if there were a switch in the heavens, sunlight spilled across the trees and fell upon my favorite one. The uncanny "Tree of Life" resemblance of this one still stuns me a bit. I have a passionate belief that the strength of us lies in the depths of our roots, and this tree seems strong and true. The yard of the house is hedged in a  tall wall of twisted branches and shrubbery, it seems almost as if it's part of a maze in a child's story which only adds to the beauty of this life. It stands alone, but does not seem lonely in this, more as if it is guarding...I like to think of it as the sentinel of the house.

My heart is heavy over the shooting back home. I've driven the streets of that neighborhood, know neighbors of one of the victims, my soul feels punctured. I'm thousands of miles away and my boys are 12 miles from that synagogue - and while I know they're safe, my heart trembles a bit at that. We have good friends looking after them and nearly men, all of them are, with solid heads on their shoulders...but I'm not sure that 'mother thing' is ever going to fade.

When you get on ground level and look up at this tree, these are its branches. The high winds of Nantucket prevent any real towering trees like we have back home, but I was startled at how twisted and interwoven the branches were, almost as if they were braided. I had gone to retrieve a child's ball that had blown from the porch during the storm and stood this afternoon, a bit in awe of the resilience represented here. Yesterday's storm winds were astounding, and I've been told it was "nothing." This tree has held its ground for decades, found strength in twisting and locking it's branches together.

Evening is falling here. I am far from home, but in my heart I am locking my arms with my Pittsburgh neighbors, standing strong and true for the love that will give us the fortitude and tenacity to refuse to give ground to this hate. It will not grow here.