A new sprout formed in my soul this past weekend, and is growing toward the surface. The roots are taking shape, but are not yet strong enough to withstand too hard of pull. This new growth will require time and attention, water and nutrients before it can burst forth into something truly amazing. Starting something new is exciting, but also requires work. Everything that was familiar, comfortable, and safe shifts in order to make room for the "new". So what do we do with "the old"?
When I arrived a few days ago at a lake side retreat center that I have come to nearly once a month for the past 6 months, I immediately was aware of something new. The seasons noticeably changed in that timeframe, but what struck me this time was the fence contrasting against the lake. Many new fence planks had replaced old rotten ones. An internal message spoke clearly, "Take out the old rotten planks, bring in new ones, and attach them to the old, solid portions of the fence." Not everything that "was" must go. New beginnings must form themselves into the solid foundation already established.
I began an initial "welcome" walk around the grounds before we started our first session, and many more scenes spoke clearly to me. A mighty old tree had fallen. Surrounding this giant old tree were younger, vibrant trees. They gathered around as in mourning, paying tribute to the years this tree had lived. As the tree returned to the Earth from which it sprung, these young trees would receive nourishment, and grow stronger. I received news the day before arriving that one of my sister-in-law's friend's had died; a husband and father, leaving many grieving his loss. The trees stood as witness to this life cycle, as I stood praying for this man and all those who gathered at his bed side. Death and life; endings and new beginnings. I looked up at a maturing tree to see a branch twisting and turning in unexpected ways in order to grow toward the light. Certainly this branch understood my own unexpected growth.
My walk continued down a pathway to the lakefront beach. A stream trickling down to join the lake, invited me closer. I was not the only visitor to the stream that day. My foot prints mixed with other living creatures. As I stooped down to dip my hand into the crystal water, I noticed the ledge on the other side of the stream. I had a clear view of all that lies beneath the surface of the lively, green vegetation growing on top of the ledge. Strong established roots mixed with new seeds beginning to sprout. All that lies above the surface is what we see and usually tend to; all that lies below holds, strengthens, and nourishes what lies above, but often goes unnoticed or ignored.
New growth builds on what has come before, and grows alongside what is presently there. What will this new sprout become in me? Only time and attention will tell. With care and nourishment, it will integrate and grow in unimaginable ways.
