High on Happiness

Posts Tagged ‘determination’

The little shrub had given it her all.   She had held on through all the days of cold November with its long, chilled nights and its blustery winds.   She pushed past the first frosts when December came.

She watched as, one by one, her leaves turned brown, her berries fell to the ground.

It was, of course, the season for their going.  And yet, with all her heart, she wanted to hold on to one last berry to raise to the sun on its birthday.  (She so loved the sun!)

It was only days away now.  The earth would tilt no farther and the sun would begin its glad return.  And all the woods would ring with Alleluia.

Her strength was all but gone.  Yesterday, the twig that raised the berry could bear its weight no more, and with a cry it bent, nearly breaking.  But still she held on.

Even though she was bent and broken, it was enough that her last, bright berry remained.  And she knew in her heart that she could hold on, and would.  It was the only gift she had to give.

Two more nights would pass before the birthday’s morning.  And the little shrub, her love filling her heart with courage, sent every shred of strength she had to the few sinewy threads that held the jeweled berry.  And the nights passed.

When the dawn broke, a gentle snow was falling.  But the clouds were high and light and through them, she could see the stars, melting into morning.   A great hush fell upon the woods as it waited in excitement for the sun’s first rays.  Finally, the grand holy day was here.

Then, just as the snow quit falling, the brilliant orb rose over the horizon and the woods burst into song.

The little berry began to dance on the soft breeze, and as it swung there on its last little threads, it began ringing out its song.  And the tinkling of its bell was so clear and filled with love that it reached all the way to the sun, and the sun’s rays reached down and held the small shrub in its warmth, and whispered, “Thank you, my child.  Be at peace. You are loved.”

“Hope is faith holding out its hand in the dark.” ~George Iles

It had been a struggle all along.  The leaves from the oak above her had piled deeply on the soil the autumn before she was born.  It took her so long to push through them that when she finally burst through to the light, she was late.

The others were already putting out their flowers while she was barely a sprout.  But gazing at their accomplishments, she saw what she might become and her spirit filled with determination and her heart brimmed with hope.

The neighborhood was terribly crowded and she was small.  She got only little scraps of sunlight here and there.  But she made the best of what she was given and was happy.

Sometimes the other plants would mock her.  But the oak, in whose roots she nestled, whispered to her to keep faith.  “Don’t you listen to them, little one,” he would say.  “You’ve got grit.  It’s your dreams that matter.  You just keep on keeping on.”

She was the last flower in the woods to finally blossom.  But she had believed all along the day would come.  Even though the hours of darkness grew long, even though the frost nibbled at her leaves, even though the other flowers were long since gone and the great oak had showered down almost all its leaves, her hope kept her going.

And finally, the day before the first snow, her seeds were finished and sailed away, burrowing beneath the fallen leaves where they would spend the winter before bursting to life in the spring.  And the little plant was filled with satisfaction, and the giant oak whispered, “Well done.”

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The way the fog wrapped the morning so deeply made you want to tiptoe, lest you disturb it or tear a hole in it somehow.   Even the light was whispering.

Then it left, so gently that you didn’t even see it go.  You just woke from your dream and it was daylight in a crisp, clear world.

That’s the way October works her monumental change, transforming billowing summer into a stark November in a calendar’s month of days.

That’s a lot of magic, when you think about it.  Maybe it’s a model for change:   Quietly, one subtly determined motion after another, with a soft persistence and gentle intensity, you focus on your purpose and  turn your life around.

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Although he wore gold epaulets and amethyst garb, he gave no thought to his position.  His eye was fastened on his purpose, on following its light.

He was the first in his rank to rise, and he did so bravely.  Without regard to the drought or overpowering heat, he unfurled his thick cape and gazed steadily into the day.

His task was to rise, to stand, and nothing more.  He was of the front guard, a wayshower, and he was determined to perform his mission with all the might he could muster.

The meager supply of morning dew evaporated quickly beneath the blazing sun’s gaze, but it was enough to encourage him.  He assayed his resources.  He had strong roots and faith in the soil that gave him birth.  And although there was no breeze to bring him comfort, he saw the stand of woods to the south and judged he could endure the sun until its leafy boughs would shield him.

As the day wore on, he looked about him.  It was really quite beautiful here in the field.  Goldenrod blossomed at its edge and the air was thick with bees.  Once he accustomed himself to it, he discovered the sun’s hot rays were actually pleasing.  He flung his cape open further to let more of its stimulating light play against him.  And he encouraged the troops around him to stand with him and witness the day.

Late in the afternoon, he saw an old man walking up the far end of his row, studying the troops closely.  A distance behind him a woman walked and two small dogs.  He heard the soft crunch of the man’s heavy boots as they edged nearer and nearer.  The old man stopped directly before him and bent over staring.

“Martha!  Look!”  the old man shouted to the woman behind him.  “Look, Martha!  A blossom!”  The man laughed, his wrinkled face breaking into a grin so bright it rivaled the sun.  “We’re going to have potatoes after all!  Hallelujah!”

And the blossom straightened more and was humbled and glad to have triggered such joy.