There is a beautiful passage in Mitch Albom's latest book "for one more day", just wanna share the excerpt here.
This is the conversation between a ghost mother and a child.
"for three years after i married your father,i wished for a child. In those days , three years to get pregnant, that was a long time. People thought there was something wrong with me, so did i."
"there was late one night when i couldnt sleep." she rubbed her hand over the bark as if unearthing an old treasure. "Ah, still there."
i leaned in. The word "please" had been carved into the side.
"what is it?"
"A prayer....for a child"
"For me?"
She nodded.
"On a tree?"
" Trees spending all days looking up to God."
How many times i look up to God when i am in desperate need? My practicality always makes me look upon myself even at times when i'm drowning. The hands that were meant to lift up to the sky were struggled to resist the momentum of waves themselves.
It was my practicality that blocks me from looking up to God.
And it was my practicality that hinders me from seeing the things that happens beyond practical.
I am practical, therefore i am not a tree.
But how i wish i can looking up to God all times.
