The Rock and the Tree growing within…

What first drew me to this scene was not its newness. I had walked past it many times before. The water, the rock, the tree were familiar, almost easy to overlook. But one morning, something was different. I felt empty in a way I had not felt before. For the first time in a long while, I felt as though I was standing alone, fully aware of my own presence, with no distraction to soften it.

That was when my eyes settled on the rock. Anchored in water, unmoving, it felt final and heavy, as though it had already accepted its place. From that same rock, a tree rises. No soil. No comfort. No visible generosity from its surroundings. Just persistence. The longer I looked, the quieter everything else became.

As I stood there, the image began to turn inward. I saw myself in that tree. Raising my children. Carrying the responsibilities of everyone around me, responsibilities that never seem to rest. Giving and giving, often without feeling held in return. And yet, the one person who truly loves me lives far away from me. In that distance, I found myself asking quietly where my strength actually comes from.

At first, all I could see was the absence. No softness. No shelter. No reassurance. Just the effort of continuing. I felt exposed in that realization, like the tree growing where logic says it should not. Strong, but tired. Standing, but unseen.

Then something shifted. A thought came gently, without force. The tree is not without anything. All it has is the rock. And that is enough. The rock is not comfort, but it is foundation. It does not move. It does not promise ease. It simply holds.

That is when my thoughts returned to my faith. My faith has anchored me through seasons where I was unsure how to breathe, unsure what was moving me forward, unsure who was carrying the weight with me. And yet, I remain steady. Like that tree, I may not always feel supported, but I am rooted. And sometimes, that quiet anchoring is the strength itself.