The Simple Faith of Trying Again

A while back, I was driving to check on the progress of the home and noticed the poor, bare little trees along the side of the road. I absolutely LOVE spring and I started to image what they would look like full and green in a couple more months.

Upon closer inspection, I saw that little tiny buds were already beginning to spout on the branches.

{photo source}

My first thought was, "Oh, no! Don't you know it's only early February? This is Utah. . . It's much too early to bud, little fellas. You'll only freeze! You'll have to start all over."

Then I thought about how, of the two of us, the tree knows more about winter in Utah than I do. I spend most of the season in my warm, dry home. He spends every second of it outside. He knows what it means to be frozen in winter, and he knows what to look for in spring.

He had the simple faith to try again after being frozen and seemingly dead all winter. He knew what needed to be done to usher in spring, and by golly, he was going to do it. He had the simple faith that the sunshine and warmth wouldn't go away. He had the simple faith that rain would come to help him grow.

He didn't bother complaining about how hard it was to flower all of his branches every year or that no one ever took the time to thank him for his dedication.

He just did it.

. . . . .

This past Sunday, we were an hour from home attending a missionary farewell. We were trying to find my Aunt's house after sacrament meeting when the truck started making unholy sounds. Long story short, we used AAA to be towed home. . . again {bless them, bless them}.

As you can imagine, the tow truck driver was. . . predictable. By that, I mean that the man was missing some of his teeth, smelled of cigarette smoke, and I'm fairly sure he chewed tobacco.

I crawled {literally} into the backseat to sit next to Hannah while Chuck took the front seat. About halfway through the drive, the two of them got to talking about motorcycles.

Turns out that our driver used to race motorcycles.

He casually told us of a particular wreck where he was going 260 MPH (on a motorcycle, people}. He lost both of his legs above the knee; has multiple titanium plates in his skull; has a titanium nose and bottom jaw; and miscellaneous hardware in his arms.

Say WHA?!

You can imagine our surprise.

Especially because he walked just fine; hooked the truck up to the trailer just fine {which included laying on the ground and hopping back up}; drove just fine; looked just fine {missing teeth aside}. We would have never guessed if he hadn't said anything.

And as if that all wasn't surprising enough, he explained that he still races motorcycles on a regular basis. He said something along the lines of, "Well, it's just like when you get tossed from a horse. You still have to get back on and ride 'im home"

If I got tossed from the back of a motorcycle and ended up being held together by titanium for the rest of my life, you can bet your bottom dollar I wouldn't be climbing back on again. But this man did. He was very passionate about it; and he was very intelligent in regards to what he loved.

The doctors told him he would never walk again, but he did. He had the simple faith to try again, even when everything and everyone told him 'no'. 

He didn't bother complaining about how devastated he must have felt at first or about how painful and strenuous it must have been to recover. 

He just did it.

. . .
  

The simple faith of those around us {trees included!} can give us the 'oomph' to get us through those moments when we just feel like giving up. There are times in life where we just need to 'do it' even when it's hard or when it doesn't seem like there will be any payoff. 

Sometimes we're the ones providing the simple faith; and other times, we're the ones receiving it. But that's the beauty of this life: we're all in it together.