The Silver Maple

I was talking to a boy last night, one I've talked to a couple of times and plan to meet for coffee later on today (Coffee= The New First Date). He was talking about Ephesians 5, and the desire he has to replicate his parent's marriage with the sort described in those verses.

I was sitting out on my deck this morning watching the grey clouds blow over thinking about the conversation we had last night and praying about this man. It's a difficult balance to want to get excited (again) for a first meeting, but trying to remain somewhat unattached to that hope (again) in case it doesn't amount to anything (again). You can't make a good first impression if you're a cynic, but allowing yourself to believe that this might be the last first date is too much in the other direction.

In any case, I was looking at my yard and allowing myself to feel satisfied and pleased with the progress we've been making. Of course, such thinking also leads to plans for more projects and changes, but that has a certain joy attached to it as well. Eventually, my gaze fell upon the old silver maple in the yard.

I noticed how the trunk is huge and solid at the base, for the first six feet or so, but with a visible line that makes me wonder if it originated as one tree, or if it was two that fused themselves together. From there, however, it splits into two solid and substantial branches. Seeing all the limbs from each coming together to make the tree balanced made me think of the relationship this boy was speaking of in Ephesians. Two people, fused together in faith, solidly one unit and yet individual with balance and purpose and most of all, a common direction to be heaven-bound.

Maybe this boy isn't the one. None have been so far. But I'm grateful, today, for his shared desire for such a relationship. And for the beautiful reminder of that in my own backyard.