I walked out the door in the morning greeted by its falling. Somehow it seemed so sad lying there, broken.
Seeing its grandeur forever removed from its reach to the heavens, and now saddled dying to the earth, got me thinking; how many times in our lives, in our path to motherhood, do things fall and break, unexpectedly, in the middle of the dark night?
How many times do dreams fall from their soar to the realm of magic only to crash to the reality of the solid earth? And what do we do when that happens?
In life there are the big, bold, daring drops; the ones that we see coming; the ones that usher in when the hurricane force winds blow in our lives. They are the tests results that tell us more of what we already know, the negative HPTs, the familiar emotions of loss.
However there are also big trees that come crashing down, quite unexpectedly, in the quiet monotony of life. What do we do when they fall to the earth?
Do we cut them up to make firewood, fueling a different future? Or do we turn them into secret forts for others to explore. Or do we just leave them to disintegrate back from whence they came while traveling deeper into the forest in order to plant a new seedling–one that will take the place of the fallen?
What do we do when trees crash, when our life paths change unexpectedly, in the quiet of a night? What do we do when big trees fall, even without a raging storm?
Some of us will plant again. Some of us will start over hoping that this next tree won’t fall. And some of us will get out our chainsaws and cut the dream to pieces with our anger, or with our determination to make room for something else in its place. And others will leave the dream, untouched, as a permanent reminder of the loss.
There is no “right” answer; each of us must plant our forest so that the vista soothes our soul. Yet what there is is the inevitability of the fallen tree, and the beautiful freedom to choose its fate in the garden of our dreams.