Out beyond my bedroom, the murmur of voices pulled me from the sweetness of sleep. I cocked my head to one side to better listen—newscasters discussing the ever-growing pandemic. It was the same grim news that we’d heard for days. I wanted to pull the blankets up over my head to drown out the gloom, but I kicked them off and walked to the window instead.
I looked out over the trees growing in a hodgepodge line up the hill. They stood quiet and still in the cold of the waking day. “They aren’t scared of the virus, are they, God?” I asked, my breath fogging up the chilly pane.
“No, they aren’t, Sparrow,” God replied. He put His hands on my shoulders, then pursed His lips and blew through the trees, softly swaying their branches to and fro.
“They look so strong and wise,” I said, “as if they know something I should know.”
God gave me a gentle hug. “They know to grow where I planted them,” He said. “They don’t fight what comes their way. They accept the sun and the wind and the rain, growing deeper roots every day.
“Is that what I need to do?
“Yes. Accept life on life’s terms,” God said gently. “Grow your roots deeper and deeper into me.”
I reached up and squeezed God’s hand resting on my shoulder. “I’ll do that,” I said, then turned and went to join my son and his girlfriend as we wait out the virus here in the seclusion of these majestic hills and God’s glorious creatures.