A tree is just a tree.

I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree. ~Joyce Kilmer

I don’t think it’s any secret that I have a soft spot in my heart for trees. I could spend an inordinate amount of time sitting and watching them – the sun casting through the leaves, the branches dancing in a breeze, the colors changing with the seasons. We were in North Carolina recently, spending a weekend in a cabin; the time there was perfect for an avid tree-watcher like myself.

One morning, as I sat on the porch of the cabin and enjoying the silence that is pretty uncharacteristic of life at home, the trees caught my attention (as they always do). From where I was sitting, I could lean back and really watch the trees – and nothing but the trees, unobstructed by anything else around. As I watched them, with things from home on my mind and my usual introspection at work, I was struck by a thought.

Trees don’t worry or care about anything.

They just are.

Trees don’t worry about what everyone else is doing. If a breeze catches one, it doesn’t hesitate to dance…even if no one else is. If the leaves on one begin to change, a tree doesn’t feel self-conscious about its vibrant colors, afraid to stand out. If one reaches new heights and stands taller than the rest, it doesn’t slouch down to look more like the others. If a dead branch falls off a tree, the tree doesn’t move all of the other branches around, attempting to cover its imperfections.

No. A tree just is.

A tree stands up tall and straight (or bends crookedly, or leans to one side), and keeps on doing what it does.

It is what it is, and that is okay.

I realize how silly this all sounds, since no, trees don’t think…and what else would a tree do, really, but stand there? For me, though – having struggled with brutal self-comparison and bitter self-loathing for much of my life – it was a revelation. A tree is just a tree…..a compilation of roots and branches and leaves…..but it has something to teach me.

A tree…..just a tree…….nothing more………

….and yet here am I, the pinnacle of God’s creation (His Word says so….I didn’t make that up, I assure you)……here am I, insecure in who I am and unhappy so much of the time with my place in this vast world.

I long for something I am not, when I am created in God’s own image…..from His own heart……out of His love for me.

If the trees….just big plants, really…..are confident with their place in the world, how much more should I be? If a tree is okay with its particular characteristics that set it apart from the others, how much more should I be, having been carved and sculpted and knit together in my mother’s womb?

Creation was not complete until woman entered the scene. There is a scene in this world that is not complete without me, yet I spend a lot of my time wishing I were different….wishing for a different calling in my life…..wishing somehow that my life looked more like others I see around me.

The trees, though, never think that way….and neither should I. If God declared the trees to be good…..how marvelous and beautiful must I be in his eyes? And who am I, really, to question what He thinks of me?