I lost a 37-year old pine tree in Irma. Yes. I counted her rings. Quite honestly. I was glad to see her go. I was tired of watching her slowly suffocate. From the potato vine that was creeping up her trunk. Her sap dripping on my patio furniture. She could have fallen a multitude of ways. Hit at least three homes in her wake. But she didn’t. God chose a different path for her. Fences. Two of them. One that revealed a neighbor’s backyard. One I’d never seen. People I’d never met. The hole in the fence revealed a new life. You’d think it would be awkward meeting your neighbors for the first time. Standing on a log. Just hours after Irma made her departure. But it wasn’t. It actually was perfectly normal. Wonderful even. I’m quite grateful for that tree. The one I was happy to see go. As for Irma. I’m grateful that’s all she took.
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The Girl Who Listens 