The Tree.


Joining in with hundreds of others for Five Minute Friday over at Here you write for Five minutes with one word as your prompt. No Editing. Just write and publish.  This is the first I have written here for over a year. Feels a little strange to visit, but at the same time feels like home. So here goes…


The tree. A gift in memory of my daddy. It’s roots buried in the dirt the day we celebrated his life here on earth, and the joy of his life now walking with Jesus. That little tree stood but 5 feet tall. It stood there firmly planted through the winds and frosts and freezing temperatures of that winter.

As spring approached the buds broke free and pink blossoms sprung forth. Vibrant. As the one pink cloud that appeared in the blinding white fog that day we drove to the hospital. The pink that appears in sunsets. Never so vibrant as the fall sunsets. Sunsets my favorite time of day. My heart stops each time I see it. Just for a moment. The memory of that morning. The pink. Then the smile comes. How great a gift, the promise of hope of things to come, brought to mind each day as the sun sets low.



The tree. Sits in a pot as I sit looking out into our new backyard. As I watch the leaves slowly fall as the temperatures drop, I notice it. In the barren, the trees arms stretched high, reaching toward the sky. Straight toward heaven. Always worshipping. Always.

And God whispers, I’m here.
I right here.

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