A couple of years ago, my closest neighbor was bemoaning the scrub trees growing up along the left edge of her property. She said they blocked the beautiful tall forest trees
behind them.
At the time, I agreed. They seemed to take away from the grandness of having only tall forest trees. Now, two years later, we’re having a different experience.
Back then, those trees were... new. They weren’t very tall yet, so their foliage sat low and looked distracting compared to the towering trees around them. I was told they were basically weeds, so I never expected them to grow tall or ever fit in.
We just couldn’t see what was coming.
Today, while out walking, I noticed how beautifully they blend in. If I glance that way, I don’t even see them as separate anymore—I see the forest as a whole. Their foliage is high now, supported by long, lean trunks like the other trees.
Immediately I realized that, once again, God was bringing a gift I wasn't appreciating—and worse, was criticizing.
What a reminder: my ultimate good is always being nurtured and provided for, even when it doesn’t look like it.
When trees go down, nature already has a plan. New trees begin all the time. I am laughing at
myself—wanting tall trees to replace what was lost, while forgetting that every tall tree starts small.
Side note: something may look like a weed and still become exactly what we need. It’s a mistake to judge the
appearance of new beginnings. Give it space. Give it time. See what happens.
My neighbor and I criticized what we saw, assuming scrub trees would remain... scrub trees.
Wrong.
God knew exactly what He was doing—and He did it anyway for our good, despite our lack of gratitude and our criticism of His provision.
Oh wow, I needed to hear myself say that. Now I better
understand what this walk and these lessons were really about!
I’m out here on this walk trying to work through some heavy feelings toward my mom. It often feels like no matter how hard I try to help her, what gets
remembered are the things that didn’t go well—not the bigger task that got accomplished.
Okay, God. I get it.
Sometimes we’re called to help people we love, even when they don’t appreciate it. Even when they’re critical. We do it anyway, because it aligns with who we are (or who we want to be), and that becomes its own reward.
And another lesson showed up!
From one side of my neighbor’s property, the newer trees still looked much shorter than the older ones. But from the other side of the road, the newer trees actually looked taller. Does that make it true? Of course not.
The truth was most evident when I stood in the middle.
Perspective.
I’ve written often about perspective versus reality. How foolish would it be for me to insist those trees are taller because that’s how they appear from one angle? What if I stubbornly refused to see them from any other point of view so I could maintain my version of the truth?
But we do that with people, with circumstances—with life.
We have to remember to challenge the way we're looking at things. Our "truth" just might expand when we do.
While some perspective takes years to adjust, sometimes
our perspective can shift as soon as we change where we stand.
Just since starting my walk, my position toward my mom has shifted. I'm compassionately remembering she's an elderly woman with nagging health
challenges, frequent loneliness and fear, and a desperate need for control. She often expects to be served without showing kindness or gratitude, but perhaps that's how she deals with feeling helpless or like a burden.
All of that might be her very best today.
I may not love being around that energy, but I can help her anyway. I can remember that criticism isn’t always a reflection of me. Sometimes it’s simply a
reflection of someone else’s pain, fear, or a general inability to feel satisfied.
I can release the need for appreciation and recognize that being helpful is loving. I can give myself the acknowledgment I need instead of
depending on someone else to praise me. Doing things from the right perspective changes everything, with self-respect as my reward. And when she’s gone, I’ll know I showed up as the person I want to be, as often as I could.
Take-aways
Where are you criticizing the provision showing up in your life simply because it doesn’t look like what you are hoping for?
Where might something that’s inconvenient, disappointing, or even unwanted actually be growing into exactly what you need?
And where could
a simple shift in perspective help you find the gifts—even when nothing else changes?
Let's remember that even if things aren't exactly as we wish, we have empowering choices. From a different vantage point, we are bound
to find beauty and gifts to be grateful for. The choice to make that shift is always ours.
PS
As I walked back up my driveway, I thought about all the trees we had taken down to access the part of our property where we wanted to build. I was so sad over losing them and we’ve been hoping trees would return. We’ve even talked about buying some to plant.
Meanwhile, every time a “scrub tree” started growing, we cut it down. So the answer to our prayers may have been showing up for free all along, but we were destroying it—because it didn’t look like what we wanted.
Ugh. How often are we sabotaging our future because of assumptions or misinformation?
What a powerful walk this was. I’ve shifted my feelings toward my
mom. I’m climbing my driveway with gratitude, seeing not scrub trees, but baby trees. And I'm saying, Thank you.
Take a walk. It might change your life.
