Gala means celebration and we have reason to celebrate. The tiny gala tree I began from seed, my own variety; nurtured and loved over the last several months, had blossomed into a small tree before being ripped from the ground by curious fingers. I searched the ground for the tiny tree, wilted and small against the tall grasses, determined to find and save it. Fortunately it rained that afternoon and in those hours it was uprooted the rain gently soaked the roots.

When I discovered the plant, it lay limp and appeared too far gone to save, but I planted it anyway with hope we’ve often cultivated in this place and this morning I discovered two new leaves stretching upward in a big yawn; an awakening.

There’s a pattern here in the tearing down and building up, in the presence of hope, of the integrity inherent in this tiny tree, of our own hope and integrity in healing and reconnecting with the land. It’s reason enough for a gala.