The Tree (Sanctuary Story)

This is a tree I pass often when I walk along East Coast Park.

It is unlike the others — broken, yet breathtaking.

It sprawls across the ground, its trunk twisted and reaching out in every direction,

and yet it is thriving — full of green, taking up space without apology.

The first time I saw it, it stopped me in my tracks.

I felt awe and surprise, but also a quiet ache of sadness,

and, somehow, pride.

I found myself wondering: What happened to you, tree?

What storms bent you so low?

What made you keep growing anyway?

Are you celebrating now?

No… you are simply content, aren’t you?

Not triumphant, not deliriously happy — just quietly fulfilled.

And perhaps that is enough.

And beneath it all are your roots,

hidden from view yet doing all the work —

holding you steady, feeding your life,

carrying you through every storm.

This tree is nothing like the others — tall, upright, expected.

But it is no less beautiful.

To me, it is even more beautiful.

It speaks to me of what it means to be human.

We all change in the storms we survive.

Life reshapes us.

And still, something in us keeps reaching for the light —

even as our unseen roots hold us steady.

This tree reminds me that the strength we search for is already inside us —

that even when life bends us, we keep reaching,

growing into shapes we never imagined,

and becoming more beautiful because of it.

That is what I hope Sanctuary will be:

a place to rest,

to come home to the strength within you,

and to begin again — not as who you were,

but as who you are becoming.