IT GREW AROUND IT
Some things don’t leave. They become part of what you carry.
Some things don’t leave.
They become part of what you carry.
And eventually… part of what you are.
This oak sits just off our path at home. Thirty inches across now — roots set deep, branches wide, dropping acorns like it’s got something to give. My wife and I walked out to it again today. The squirrels figured it out first. Now the dogs have too. Funny how life gets shared… when something grows long enough to carry it.
DEDICATION
God — for the perfection of what You created, the soil You planted us in, and the freedom You gave us to find our way back to it.
Marty — for always taking the walk with me, and for the life we’ve planted and continue to nurture together.
Our marriage — fed and watered daily, not assumed… chosen.
Our friends and readers — who encourage us, walk with us, and carry something forward from what’s shared here.
SCRIPTURE
“That you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend… what is the width and length and depth and height—” — Ephesians 3:17–18 (NKJV)
“Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit.” — John 15:2 (NKJV)
THE HOOK
There’s a knot in the side of this tree.
You can’t miss it once you see it.
A place where something used to be… and isn’t anymore.
Not smooth. Not hidden. Not erased.
Still there.
The tree didn’t remove it.
It grew around it.
THE STORY
My wife and I walked out to it again today.
Thirty inches across now.
Not the small tree I remember.
Roots set deep. Branches reaching wide. Dropping acorns like it’s got something to give.
The squirrels figured that out first.
Now the dogs have too.
Funny how that works.
What carries life… doesn’t stay hidden forever.
THE MOMENT
A tree doesn’t pretend the cut never happened.
It doesn’t go back and fix it.
It doesn’t erase the damage.
It keeps growing.
Layer by layer. Season by season.
Until what once interrupted it… becomes part of it.
It didn’t go away. It got carried forward.
The cut didn’t end the story… it became part of the growth.
You don’t move past what shaped you. You grow around it.
THE TURN
And here’s what most people don’t see…
Not every part of the tree is receiving the same thing.
One side can be thriving… full… reaching…
while another side is struggling.
Not because the water stopped coming.
Because something inside the trunk hardened.
Blocked.
Life is still there.
It just doesn’t reach everything anymore.
THE DRIFT
That voice says…
You’re fine. Look how far you’ve come.
Everyone has something — this is just yours.
No need to go back there.
That sounds like peace.
It isn’t.
It’s avoidance dressed up as growth.
I know.
Because I called it maturity.
For years.
THE REFLECTION
God has cut dead things out of me.
I remember every one of them.
Where they were. What they held. What it felt like when they were removed.
Not clean. Not easy. Not without resistance.
But necessary.
Because a tree can be alive… and still have places where life no longer flows.
And a man can be walking, building, moving forward… and still carry parts of his heart that stopped receiving.
Not because life isn’t coming.
Because something inside hardened.
And sometimes what gets cut…
isn’t punishment.
It’s mercy.
Not to take something from you —
to restore what still has life in it.
You don’t outgrow your seasons.
You carry them.
Every drought. Every storm. Every place where something broke… or had to be removed.
It’s all there.
Like rings inside a tree.
Most people see the height.
God sees the seasons.
We’re meant to do the same.
But when something in us hardens…
it doesn’t stay untouched forever.
WALKAWAY LINE
The cut didn’t end the story — it became part of the growth.
SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT
Is there a place in you that stopped receiving… even though life is still being offered?
MY PRAYER
Heavenly Father,
Thank You for the places You didn’t leave alone.
Even when it hurt… even when I resisted… even when I didn’t understand the cut.
Thank You for caring more about life in me than comfort around me.
If there are places in me that have hardened… places where Your truth is no longer reaching…
soften them.
Restore the flow.
And give me the courage to trust what You remove…
so what remains can truly live.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.
ABOUT G~
G~ writes from lived experience — exploring identity, authority, and time through the lens of faith, trial, leadership, and surrender. His reflections are not meant to condemn or hype, but to steady. Rooted in covenant, forged through adversity, and anchored under the authority of Jesus Christ, his work invites readers to examine who governs their lives — and to live intentionally under truth.
If what you’ve read resonates with your journey, feel free to reach out.
G~