Happy Sunday, Renegades
(everyone knows its Sunday, right?)
Friday night we experienced the most exquisite thunder and lightning show here in Austin, TX. I sat in awe as I was watched the sky light up.
Then the rain along with the wind followed and my feeling of awe quickly shifted to worry.
Is that hail? Will it break a window? The rain appears to be coming down in sheets that are going sideways? That can’t be good. People shouldn’t be driving. How long is this going to last?
My lemon tree. It’s outside. This wind is going to rip it apart. I should bring it inside. That poor tree is having a very difficult season!
First the move across town and then adjusting to the new weather conditions. She has barely any leaves. Hasn’t started producing fruit…
This is the last thing she needs. She’s seen enough… How the fuck can I get that tree through the door?
This was literally my train of thought while I laid in bed looking at my weather app to see how long this storm was going to last.
My final thoughts before falling asleep were, even if I could bring the Lemon tree inside, it wasn’t meant to be indoors.
It was always meant to be outdoors.
In its element.
This morning when I woke up, I went straight to my lanai (as I do every morning; I have this need to open the doors and gage the temps/ my day before I do anything else)
I looked to my lemon tree. It was as if nothing had happened.
The sky was blue. The air, crisp. She was there. With the same leaves she’d had the day before.
I almost felt embarrassed for doubting her – for forgetting that she is made to
weather the storm. That all the plants, trees -nature, experiences these conditions and adapt so they can not just survive, but thrive.
This may sound cliche, perhaps obvious or elementary, but I couldn’t help but feel like my lemon tree was teaching me a lesson.
I realized we’ve both been dealt circumstances out of our control and yet, she’s not giving up. She remains rooted in her pot while baby leaves sprout from her branches and she stretches towards the light. (not worried in the least)
She may not produce fruit this year, but that doesn’t mean she’s not growing. Or that this won’t be her best year.
When I have my moments of doubt, I can remember that I too was made to weather the storms.
I can root down and have faith.
Trust that I’m in my element.
That this too, shall pass.