I’ve worried for months that the tree in my front yard is dead.
With all the drought and excessive heat we had last summer, all of its leaves turned brown and fell off long before they were supposed to in the fall.
Even when all the other trees in the neighborhood still had leaves.
It just stood there with all of its leaves missing. Barren. Lifeless.
Like a Charlie Brown Christmas tree.
Made me sad every time I looked at it.
Kinda like those suburban neighborhoods in Lancaster, a suburb south of Dallas, where a tornado touched down last week.
Neighborhoods in my hometown looked like that 33 years ago.
Houses made of bricks and houses made with sticks toppled all the same. And it looked like nothing would ever be right again.
Even after they cleared the debris away and only concrete slabs with plumbing fixtures remained.
If you drive through Wichita Falls today, though, you’d never know what happened so long ago. You’d never know that over 50 people didn’t survive the tornado that ran through the city, or that thousands of people lost their homes.
You’d never know that for weeks we went without water and electricity.
And that it took months, if not years, to clean everything up.
But we did.
Because that’s what we do. We raise barns.
We get better. Even when it feels like we can’t go on. That we can’t get up again.
But we can.
Because He makes all things new.
Spring reminds us that winter doesn’t last forever.
And in case you were wondering, my tree is alive, full of beautiful green leaves.
So am I.
I hope you are, too.
Well, minus the green leaves.