The Maple Bush -Archive Post-

Let me tell you a story of recovery. Recovery is not cure, or making an illness or disability go away. I must admit my mother has trouble with the word recovery, because it implies these things to her. I have autism, as I have said before, and know it will not go away, but I never let it hinder me for the most part. There were setbacks, and there were times I had to give things up, this tree is a good metaphor for anyone who is in recovery from anything that strikes them.


There was a young maple sapling near my home; in fact, it was near the mailbox I use. It was growing, tall and strong, but not as much as its elder relatives across the street. It would get there in time. However, a winter ice storm struck the area, and the weight of the ice stripped the tree down to a stump. It was no longer a “maple tree” in the traditional sense. Why did the garden tenders not pull out the stump? Nobody knows-I guessed it was a lack of money, but the stump stayed. The next spring, little branches grew out of the stump. The tree did not look like a tree in the traditional sense, yet it was growing. The maple tree resembled a bush. So, I called it the Maple Bush. In the summer, the Maple Bush’s branches had grown green leaves. In the fall, the leaves changed color and fell. In the winter, there was snow; the branches did not break. In the spring, more branches and leaves began to grow. In the summer, the leaves grew to a lovely green. In the fall, the leaves changed color and fell. In the winter, the bush rested. In spring, leaves and branches grew. Now it is late spring again. The Maple Bush is actually a tree, but it has not formed a traditional trunk as of yet. In time, the trunk will come back if left to grow.


That is the way with recovering from something that could be tragic. You could let go of the potential and dig out the stump, or you could try to grow again. I can tell you this, because I have been in “recovery” since age 3. I give the Lord and my mother the most credit, since the Lord gave my mother the insight to know what to do in growing my branches. I also give credit to friends I have made over the years. I did not mean to treat you harshly, or arrogantly, when I did. I am sorry. Whatever is making your life hard, whatever had cut you down to the stump, you can outgrow it.


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Autistic woman in her 40s, bringing attention to issues that affect her and her kind.

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