Don't Torch the Tree

 

This winter storm has taught us many things -- one of them being that love sometimes shows up in unexpected forms. Like worrying more about trees than thermostats.

While my children were without electricity in the East Texas tundra, bundled up like Arctic explorers, their biggest concern hasn’t been themselves. It’s been their beautiful live oak trees.

One young oak -- just three years old -- bowed under the weight of the ice. A limb bent low, touching the ground, but it didn’t crack. Still attached. Still alive. Still fighting.

My daughter called with a question born of care and urgency: "Should we use torches to melt the ice?"

So I did what any techy mother does -- I consulted the internet.

The answer was a firm NO!! No heat. No flames. No quick fixes.

Why? Because rapid heat causes shock. It damages what’s alive beneath the surface. Bark may look fine now, but the injury shows up later -- when leaves don’t return, when growth stops, when what seemed helpful actually harms.

Instead, the advice was simple and hard -- WAIT!

Let the ice melt naturally.

Don’t shake the limbs.

Don’t force recovery.

Trust the tree’s resilience.

And just like that, the lesson landed squarely on my heart.

How often do we try to “torch” ourselves -- or others -- through heavy seasons? We rush healing. We push answers. We apply heat where patience is required. We mean well. We want relief. But sometimes, love looks like restraint.

Trees, like people, need time after a hard storm. What bends isn’t always broken. What looks alarming today may straighten itself tomorrow.

Live oaks have survived centuries of storms. So have we.

No torch required. Just time, care, and trust that warmth will return -- right on schedule.

“He shall be like a tree planted by the waters, which yields its fruit in its season, and whose leaf does not wither.” Psalm 1:3