Weeping to Dancing

When tasked with the responsibility of writing about this painting, my mind came up empty. In truth, this piece was a commission for my grandparents, so there really wasn’t a deeper, hidden meaning to its creation.

Thus, I turned to the internet. A scary place indeed.

However, instead of finding creepy stories of weeping willows littering cemeteries and summoning ghosts from their graves… I found hope amongst this traditionally-melancholy tree. 

Ironically enough, this sad, hurting species is actually able to heal; willow bark can be used to treat fevers and inflammation, acting as a natural alternative to aspirin.

It’s soft, pliable branches can not only be shaped into furniture, but also grow a whopping ten feet a year. In fact, discarded willow branches are known to be so resilient, they easily germinate roots and grow into brand new trees!

Furthermore, given that they’re so hardy, they’re often utilized to repopulate ecosystems that have been destroyed by fires and other disasters.

And when you take all these tidbits and put them together, a picture starts forming, doesn’t it? Not a typical one of sorrow, but of strength. Ultimately, I think this tree’s infamous resilience can be attributed to its reliance on water (yes, I know that all trees technically rely on water, but this is different).

Despite what the terrain of my painting suggests, weeping willows almost always root themselves near bodies of water. Why? So they won’t be nourished occasionally, but have their fill from a source that never runs dry.

Perhaps we can learn from these seemingly-sorrowful trees…

The Bible tells us “blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord. He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit” (Jer 17:7-8).

Friends, we gotta be like willow trees—rooted in the Living Water of Christ, so that…

When heat and fire and disasters come, we don’t fret. We remain and help revitalize those who’ve been hurt.

When Satan tries to snip our branches, we lean in to Christ’s ability to make beauty from ashes. We let Him cultivate new roots and trees from our discarded clippings.

When trials come, we push through them. Rise above them and grow with renewed vigor, closer and closer to the Son above.

When those around us are hurting, we allow our Maker to mold us. We become chairs and tables, allowing our loved ones to rest on our strength as they recuperate their own.

When sorrow is great, we heal. By the amazing grace of our expert Gardener, our weeping turns into dancing, bringing forth good fruits that endure.  

All because we are—like the willows—rooted in Him.

May we, dear readers, be forever rooted in Him.