The soft spring breeze gently kissed Millie’s rosy cheeks as she made her way to her favorite writing spot. Beneath a hundred year old Weeping Willow she’d named her Writing Willow; Millie penned over five hundred short stories and poems all of which she’d sold. Her inspiration spurred on by the comings and goings of her fellow Albertan’s who came to the park daily for one reason or another. They became characters within her stories allowing her to feel a certain kinship with them.
Today wasn’t about her characters though unless you thought about it in a round about way. Today was about saving her beloved willow. The tree was old with a trunk the size of three grown men’s arms out stretched and although firmly rooted was brought to the town council as a safely hazard. The vote went through electing the removal of the towns name sake, Willow Meadows.
Today Millie’s willow would be removed and before the brilliant sun rose, Millie would chain herself to the trunk in protest of what God had created and cared for all of these years. Millie wouldn’t be the only one. Her friends from her writing class heard her plight and agreed to picket the park and try their best to stop the town from removing their friends writing spot.
That’s how things were supposed to go.
Millie was in for a surprise as she made her way around the trunk of the tree. Sitting in her favorite place beneath the boughs was a handsome young man whose smile seemed to reach beyond his lips and into his doe like brown eyes causing them to twinkle with mirth.
Momentarily caught up, Millie said not a word. The stranger on the other hand had something to say and wasted no time. “Good morning Millie Armstrong. I brought coffee with me. Would you like a cup?”
“Coffee? Sure. But…”
As if reading her mind the interloper asked, “How did I know your name?”
Shifting from one foot to the other Millie dropped the chains she was carrying with her and stated, “You could start by answering that.”
“Why you’re famous of course.”
Blushing Millie replied, “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”
“Well I would. That’s why I’m here.”
“Oh, so you’ll protest with me this morning?” Excitement rose within Millie at the thought of this hand some man helping out.
“I didn’t say that.”
The excitement quickly vanished turning into confusion as Millie asked, “Then what are you here for?”
“I am here to help you with your plight.”
“I thought you just said you weren’t here to help me protest.”
“I’m not. Answer me one question Millie. Why are you so intent on saving this old relic of a tree?”
“It’s my favorite writing spot, one of God’s beautiful creations, not to mention the town was named after it.”
“Are you afraid you won’t be able to write any more if the tree were removed?”
Frustration started to set in as Millie heard the interloper ask another question. It seemed to Millie he was here to convince her not to protest which she was adamant about thus she picked up the heavy chain and began to walk around the tree with it completely ignoring the man’s question.
Not easy to dissuade, the stranger continued to grill Millie. “Millie, are you not one of God’s creations?”
“I believe you are one of God’s special creations. Do you want to know what else I believe?”
Still no answer sprang forth from Millie’s lips.
“I believe God instilled in you the gift of creativity. He gave you a passion to write. He made you the writer you are today; this silly old willow didn’t do that.”
On the other side of the tree Millie stopped in her tracks and contemplated what was being said to her and she had to admit the stranger was right. As she was coming around the base of the tree to face the man; Millie admitted as much but as she rounded the tree no one was to be found.
The transient vanished; with it Millie’s desire to protest.
Oh she’ll never forget her Writing Willow but now she knows why she writes; placing emphasis on writing for the Lord which she can do just about anywhere.
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