Good Timber

The tree that never had to fight

   For sun and sky and air and light,

But stood out in the open plan

   And always got its share of rain,

Never became a forest king

  But lived and died a scrubby thing.

The man who never had to toil

   To gain and farm his patch of soil,

Who never had to win his share

   Of sun and sky and light and air,

Never became a manly man

   But lived and died as he began.

Good timber does not grow with ease,

   The stronger wind,the stronger trees,

The further sky,the greater length,

   The more the storm,the more the strength.

By sun and cold,by rain and snow,

  In trees and men good timbers grow.

Where thickest lies the forest growth

   We find the patriarchs of both.

And they hold counsel with the stars

   Whose broken branches show the scars

Of many winds and much of strife.

Some people live their whole lives in gentle weather.

The sky above them is always soft and blue. The air is easy to breathe, the ground beneath them steady and warm. They never worry where the next meal comes from, or if the roof over their head will hold.

They grow, yes—but not deep.

Others… they are born into storms.

The sky is wider for them, but the wind is sharper. Rain beats against their skin before they can speak their first word. Their roots are forced to grip the earth, to search for strength in soil that does not freely give. They learn to stand even when the ground shifts beneath them.

A tree that never has to fight for sunlight will never stretch its branches far.

It will never feel the need to reach higher than its comfort. Its trunk will remain narrow, its bark thin, its life safe—but small.

It’s the same with people.

A person who never struggles for their place in the world might be comfortable, but comfort is not the same as strength.

Comfort doesn’t teach you what to do when the wind comes howling.

Comfort doesn’t show you who you are when everything you depend on falls away.

Strength is built in resistance.

It’s carved into you by challenge, like the lines on a weathered face or the rings inside an ancient oak.

The harder the wind blows, the deeper your roots go. The heavier the rain falls, the stronger your branches become. And the more the storm rages, the more you learn to sway without breaking.

Look at the tallest trees in any forest. Their bark is scarred. Some branches are missing, torn away by years of wind. But they stand.

They’ve stood through winters where ice bent them low, through summers where the heat threatened to dry them from the inside out. They’ve endured seasons when the earth gave too little, and others when the flood tried to wash them away.

And still they grow—slowly, patiently, unshakably.

It’s the same with the strongest people you’ll ever meet.

They have scars you can’t always see.

They’ve faced storms you’ll never know about.

They’ve been bent, bruised, and battered—but never broken.

This is life’s oldest lesson:

The easy path will keep you safe, but it will not make you strong.

If you want depth, you have to be willing to face the wind.

If you want wisdom, you have to endure the storms.

If you want to stand tall, you have to let your roots push through rock and frost until they find what holds.

Some people fear the storm.

Others see it for what it is: a teacher.

It teaches patience when the winds are too fierce to fight.

It teaches courage when the darkness feels endless.

It teaches humility when you realize you can’t control the weather, only your response to it.

And when the sun finally breaks through, you see yourself differently.

You see the strength you didn’t know you had.

You stand taller—not because the storm is gone, but because you know now you can survive the next one.

So if you find yourself in the middle of a hard season, don’t curse the wind just yet.

Let it shape you. Let it test your roots. Let it teach you how to hold firm when the ground shifts.

Because one day, you’ll be the tallest tree in your forest.

And someone standing in your shadow will look up and wonder how you got so strong.

And you’ll smile, knowing—

It was the storm that made you.

This is the common Law of Life.