On Growing Roots.

The Oak and the Amaryllis

by Rebecca Turk

Let your roots grow down into him and draw up nourishment from him, so you will grow in faith, strong and vigorous in the truth you were taught. Let your lives overflow with thanksgiving for all he has done. Col. 2:7

The warming spring sun awakens life beneath the earth’s surface. Two tender shoots break free of the binds of the winter hardened soil. Faces lifted to the sun, they make their introductions.

Hi, my name is Amaryllis. What is yours?

I’m oak. What will you be?

I’ll be a glorious flower, elegant beyond words. What about

You?

I don’t know, I’ve never done this before. Last year I was

an acorn.

You’re very little, Oak.

So are you, Amaryllis.

Gentle showers began to fall on both the Oak and the Amaryllis.

Oak, you’ve lost one of your leaves. You’re too tender, too

weak. You’ll never make it if even the rain breaks you down. Look at me, see how fast I’m growing, see how thick my stem is?

The rain cannot touch me.

For a moment Oak became discouraged, maybe he would never be anything grand. He certainly hadn’t grown as much as the Amaryllis had. In fact, he was half as tall and about a forth as wide as the Amaryllis was.

A month past, the weather was mostly fair, but when it did storm, Oak always seemed to take the greater damage. But within him, beneath the surface, he had a hope he couldn’t explain. He felt that there was more to this story than what met the eye.

Amaryllis was now very tall, at the top of her long slender stem was a bud growing nigh to unfolding. She was beautiful already and she had not yet bloomed.

Ammy, how come you’re so beautiful? How did you grow

so fast?

Oak, I just am made more beautiful than an oak. I grow

faster, so that people can see my lovely flower without

having to wait so long.

Yeah…I suppose you’re right.

The next morning as the sun began to filter down upon the two, Oak opened his eyes to see a spectacular sight of color and elegance. The petals of Amaryllis’ flower had opened.

Wow!

I know. I’m beautiful--so tall and elegant.

Amaryllis, I feel the wind blowing my tiny leaf. I think it is

about to storm.

It is. You better take care to stay safe. You’re so little.

That night it rained and rained. Oak lost his other leaf. He was now nothing but stem. Amaryllis faired better that night, she only took a small tear to one of her petals.

Oak, you really must grow faster, or you’ll never survive

these rains.

I’m trying, but I’m not seeing anything change. I’m not

pretty, I don’t even have my leaves anymore!

I feel the wind moving in again, the sky is growing dark. I

don’t know what else you have left to loose…if this is the

last time we talk, I’ll miss you Oak.

Oak’s tiny heart was heavy, he was consumed with the fear of what this storm may do to him. How did Amaryllis have such confidence? How was it fair that she had grown so tall, so thick stemmed, and beautiful in the time it took him to barely make his presence known on earth.

The night was long, Oak’s tiny boughs bent. Extreme pain was sent through him as he was forced downward, the rain so heavy he couldn’t even see Amaryllis next to him.

When morning came it revealed the damage—many of plants around them had not survived the night. A grown poplar tree was lying on the ground, splintered.

And then there was Amaryllis…Her glory lay wilted and rain battered on the ground.

Ammy! Are you alive?

Yes, Oak. I am—but I just don’t understand. I was made to

grow tall, I had a strong stem, and I was so beautiful. How

do you still stand?

I don’t know. I’m sorry your flower broke off.

I am too, but I’m still taller than you--my stem is still thick.

The rains gave way to summer heat. The ground grew hard and scorched. Oak had not grown any new leaves since loosing them, and Amaryllis still stood tall, though broken.

I’m thirsty, Oak.

I’m hot and burned, too. It’s miserable.

I’m turning brown.

I am brown.

No oak--I’m sick. I’ve been thirsty too long.

Sink your roots down into the water reserve from the

previous rains.

My roots are as far as they will go. I will soon die, but I’ll

be back next year.

Will I also die?

I don’t know. We will have to wait and see.

A few days passed and Amaryllis began to look less and less like the beautiful, tall, thick stemmed flower of elegance that she had once been and more like a dried, twisted, hallow shadow of her former self.

Ammy? Are you going to make it?

No, Oak. I won’t. This is going to have to be our goodbye.

With that Oak watched the last of the green fade from Amaryllis’ leaves and stem. While alone Oak had much time to reflect and look around, he noticed something he had not before. About 100 feet away stood a mighty tree with branches that spread, as wide, he guessed, as the tree was tall.

Great Tree, why did Amaryllis die and I survive?

You survived because your roots sink much deeper into the

life giving reserves of water.

But Amaryllis was so beautiful. She grew so quickly. She

was so tall.

Amaryllis spent her energy to grow upward, your energy

was well spent sinking your roots downward. They will

sustain you through the drought and keep you anchored in

the storm.

The season continued on, and Oak grew a little. He even grew two tiny new leaves. The rain began to fall again, and he wasn’t so scared of the rain anymore. He had survived it before--he would survive again. The wind grew colder, and his leaves began to change color. At first it scared him, but then he saw some beauty in it. One day the wind began to blow and his two tiny yellow leaves blew off of him and floated away.

Great Tree, my leaves are gone. I have nothing left. You

have your height and breadth; I am just a tiny sapling.

Be still, Oak. Your time will come.

Wha—what’s that supposed to mean?

You will see.

Oak felt all within him begin to grow still. He feared that this was what it felt like to die. Was he dying? All he knew is that he was very tired. He fell into a deep slumber, without ever coming to any conclusion on what the Great Tree meant…nor knowing if this was the end of his tale.

The winter winds blew around Oak’s cold, leafless, tiny trunk, and all was still within.

After months of nothing but winter, it began to rain again. The rain was warm, and slowly Oak began to feel life restored. He opened his eyes one morning to see the sun shining bright.

Wh-ere am I? Oh, I’m still here…and I look the same.

Just wait.

Came the reply from the Great Tree.

The days grew gradually warmer and soon Oak noticed a change, he had new branches growing, and if he wasn’t mistaken the ground seemed further bellow. There were tiny buds on the ends of each of his branches--six to be exact. He was growing, while Amaryllis had not yet broken through the surface.

That year, Amaryllis came up later than normal complaining that the winter had been too harsh and that her shallowly planted bulb had taken some damage—yet she grew. Oak grew as well, though he did not catch up to the height of Amaryllis he got close to it. There were many storms and high winds throughout the year, and again they took damage. Oak lost a leaf; Amaryllis flower was torn. Amaryllis still lacked roots of any real depth. So again, as the dry season fell upon them, she began to die. Oak, held on through it all, through the rain, through the wind, and the drought. Growing slowly, but growing none the less.

Years passed. After several years, Oak was finally looking down when talking to Amaryllis. His trunk began to grow thicker, and his roots grew continuously deeper. The winds barely touched him anymore, and he survived every drought. The same could not be said of Amaryllis. Nothing really changed with her. Each year it was the same. She would take damage in the storm and die in the drought.

If you were to visit them now, you would find them close friends—just as they were before. Now during the scorching days and blistering winds, Oak can offer some shelter to Amaryllis. But the drought still brings upon the end for Amaryllis. Oak now stands at least 50 feet tall. His trunk is gnarled and twisted. He bares scars from the damage of the storms, but he is grand. His branches spread as wide as he is tall, and many creatures take refuge in his branches. He knows now what the Great Tree was saying when it told him to be still and wait--that his time would come.