A tree stood outside of the village.
Few noticed the tree as they went about the business of their days and nights.
But of those few who saw the tree, and stepped aside from the road to look closer, none would remain as they once were.
All who came to the tree saw their names carved into the timber.
All who kneeled before the tree and reached out to touch and own that they recognized their own name on this tree, grateful that they were named there, found they were washed by the tree’s life-blood, till they were clothed anew, white like light.
By this light were these few of the few given to see their gifts beneath the tree – once again, named with their own name.
Of these few clothed in white light, some would never open their gifts, some would open, but never use that contained within.
But a few of these few would receive, open, and use their own named gifts. They would provide for each other by use of these gifts. They would provide for those whose gifts remained unopened or unused. They would even provide for the passers-by, on the road and in the village.
As these few, of the few, of the few accessed and used their gifts, their gifts increased in depth and beauty and strength – and the few grew themselves, in strength, beauty, joy, insight and peace – their light shone brighter with every use of their gifts.
And those who came to the tree, saw their name engraved there, but would not acknowledge it as their own, nor embrace the tree and its gifts with gratefulness, wandered endlessly.
Unsettled in the village, unsettled on the road, and resentful of the tree…
…The tree stood outside of the village, off the oft-travelled road, but high and lifted up on the hill…
the bestower of life, gifts, restoration and purpose.