In the early morning coolness, I cannot help but marvel at all creation. As my leaves become heavy with dampness and droop with water, created from the clash between the damp night air and the heat of the rising sun, I am chilled with delight as my damp leaves are cooled by a gentle morning breeze. As the droplets form and trickle down tickling my scarred and broken branches, I am reminded of the driving rain and beating hail that pounded me, the lightning that burned and scarred me and left me marked by the angry storm that I endured.

I feel no anger toward the forces that pounded me. There is thanks to be given, even to them, for causing me to reach down deep with my roots to find the source of my nourishment that I might have a firm hold on and knowledge of the strength that I gained by being tempered by the hardship. The breaking of my limbs served only to prune and make way for a stronger growth, and to give me strength that I may now hold securely the nest of a bird. To protect it in safety from the storms that tore at me so angrily.

I do not curse the heat of the mid-day sun, I know this pain will cause me to draw from the depths, and through me will flow the nutrients that will bring the manifestation of a beautiful rose. I am thankful that through the hardships, I see the magnificence of a preordained destiny.