She bends over, bowed at the knee. Her back is arched as her hair and arms bend to the ground. It is both a sad and a beautiful sight to behold – that of Weeping Willow.
There is no hiding for Weeping Willow. God made Willow to be tall and magnificent in spite of her great sorrows and weaknesses. She cannot run and hide; she was created as a picture of beauty in weakness. She is not put together like the mighty oak that stands at attention with strong leaves clinging closely. Instead, her loose branches sway to and fro in the wind; scattering leaves tumultuously all around that drop slowly from bowed branches.
Willow is a sight to behold. She is strong, and she is humble.
I have great respect for Weeping Willow. She has shown me that true grief and weeping can produce beauty beyond description. Many people view her as large and messy, but I embrace her willingness to be true to her unique design.
I have never embraced grief or sadness. I have looked on it as shameful, viewed it as weakness. Yet, as I stare at Willow, I see only beauty and strength. Could grieving and sadness produce such beauty in my own life? Could I give myself permission to be broken and messy without excuse, knowing that sorrow and suffering, in time, produce peace and joy?
It’s hard to believe in the middle of sorrow and suffering that our grief produces songs of joy; but that’s exactly what we are told in Psalm 126:5 & 6 (NIV), “Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. He who goes out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him.”
Perhaps Weeping Willow is a visual reminder to us all of our great need for a God who promises to be “close to the brokenhearted and save those who are crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18 NIV). It’s when we bow our knees and bend our hearts that we can most clearly hear the voice of the One who knit us together in our mother’s womb and created our inmost being.
Though I do not know how long Weeping Willow must weep, she appears unfaltering in her posture and unhurried in her grief.
So I, too, will maintain this posture of worship as I sit still in my own grief, not hiding myself away during a painful, messy, tumultuous, beautiful season.
Stay the Course…
Sheila
