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There's a small cherry tree out my back window. It sits on a gentle mossy slope above my patio. The patio that belongs to the small duplex I have rented to escape a thirty-nine year marriage that became a living hell.

It has a broken branch where I've hung a bird feeder my brother-in-law made. When I discovered the broken branch at the ideal location to view the feeder from my dining table, it brought me joy. Joy at this season of my life is a rare thing.



Anyhow, I call the tree my "Jonah tree". We all remember Jonah getting swallowed by the whale, but the end of the story doesn't get as much attention. The people of Nineveh repent and turn from their wicked ways. And Jonah gets angry. Angry because God has compassion and doesn't destroy them. 

God has compassion on Jonah, too, and grows a plant to cover his head and protect him from the heat as he sits stewing in his anger.

I feel Jonah's pain. I'm stewing in a lot of anger these days. 

Anger over a life that looks nothing like I thought it would at fifty-eight. Anger over a lot of seemingly unanswered prayers. Anger over having to do and be things I never wanted to do or be. Anger over having to leave a home on the lake with a beautiful view and move to a duplex with a view of a small cherry tree. 

Most especially, anger over the easy, breezy way some glide through life leaving damage in their wake with seemingly no consequences. 

But as one who takes the time to self-reflect, the hard truth is I've 'seemingly' gotten away with stuff, too. I treated people poorly, made monumentally stupid decisions and lacked compassion more times than I can count. Yes, I repented. Yes, I changed. But that doesn't negate the fact that I, too, am a Ninevite.

And still He grew me a plant. A plant to comfort me and protect me. Birds to cheer me. Shelter over my head, while I grieve and process the death of a marriage I really never wanted to end.

I'm only four months in to this path. It's the most painful one I've ever walked. I suspect as the anger dwindles, and it will, they'll be many more emotions to work through, especially the grief over the death of what I thought was.

Doris Day sang "Que sera sera...whatever will be, will be...the future's not ours to see..." I've no idea how long I'll be here in this little place with the Jonah tree. No idea when I'll have the strength to move forward in a more permanent way. 

But I am back to thanking God for the little things and that is progress. His ways are higher than mine. Life doesn't always look the way we think it should. So I'll keep on keeping on until it's time to move on from my Jonah tree. I can only pray He doesn't send a worm to eat it.


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