Many years ago when my firstborn was barely walking, I carried the beginnings of an inner turbulence. There was a heaviness in me that would not sink.One morning, very much aware of the growing heaviness in me, I found myself flying low over Metro Manila. Right below me was a wide expanse of fiery red-orange blossoms of this--the African Tulip Tree. I was admiring the strength and boldness of this tree and the magnificence of the view--row upon row of bright orange blooms jutting out of the vast green. It was doing something inside me that was confusing at the time. But there was crazy motion around my heart and solar plexus. At that moment I very distinctly heard the phrase, "Find your voice." The message was audible. It was in me and yet unspoken by me and it was clear as day.
Years later, in what feels like a new life carved out of the old, I find myself steward of such a tree. It is the one major tree my lot came with and I only realized what it was when it started to bloom for me. The tree sits squarely in the center of my view from the bedroom--something I could not have planned, but there it is.
Almost a week ago, my children were somewhere in it and my youngest fell from one of its branches. That moment was one of those heart-in-your-throat motherhood moments. Everything was in slow motion. But save for the shock, my little boy was fine. It is now his tree, too. It was after that incident that I began piecing together the significance of this tree in my life.
For the first time in my biography, I feel that I am finding my voice. It is not complete and not always heard, but I feel that it is already gaining resonance. I look back on that moment I heard the message and know that it was grace. From there the journey was painful, nearly unbearable, but today looking at this tree across my bedroom, I see how very necessary everything was and how important it is to take heed and listen to the very depths of our being and be open to the images around us always. If we are awake to it, we will find that the world constantly speaks to us.
The African Tulip Tree is my daily reminder that I am constantly held in grace if I would only be still and accept it.
