Persian wisdom

The past week was rather hard, but when Saturday came, the sky was clear and the sun was bright. I woke early, I prepared my lesson, I spoke to my love for a few minutes. I wore a flowing white skirt traced with beautiful embroidery. I felt the peace and the joy of the day of rest.

A friend of mine, Abraham, related this to me, in his mild Iranian accent: "When the wind blows the branches of the tree, it is then that its roots grow deep." He waved his hands to depict the wind blowing through the tree and smiled, as he always does, with kindness and mirth. A long time back he had told me his own story, of how he had accepted a new faith and was ostracized from his family for it. Long before I was born, he said with a twinkle in his eye. He went to Lebanon for a time and finally came here, where he met his wife of almost forty years. They just recently came back from a trip to Alaska.

We have the privelege to pray any where and at any time. To savor our relationship with God in a beautiful building, a simple house, or ensconced within the beauty of nature. But one of the joys of fellowship is to learn and be inspired by others who have traveled much longer journeys of faith than you have.

Well, I don't know if my weakness has made me stronger or not. But it's made more aware of my own habits, of keeping track of the things within my mind. Of exhaling. And of the need to listen to good advice.