The beginning

Where do I begin ?

Let me start with the sycamore tree. Those who are familiar with the Bible will remember Zacchaeus, the short man who climbed up a sycamore tree to catch a glimpse of Jesus who was passing by.(Luke 19:1-10).To his amazement, Jesus stops at the foot of the tree and says he wants to stay in his house for the night . What follows is a complete spiritual make over . A corrupt tax collector transforms into a true follower of Jesus.

I remember the first time the name Zacchaeus made a personal connection with me . A class mate of mine , in the catechism class was apparently overjoyed at the discovery that this name suited me the most ! She turned back gleefully & called me Zacchaeus and there I was ,really upset as I felt she somehow ended my hope that I might grow taller … I didn’t retaliate verbally but my expression must have been quite uninspiring that she never dared to call me that again !

A decade or so later I was reminded of Zacchaeus.and the sycamore tree. I was rudely shaken by a sycamore that emerged out of nowhere !It looked sinister and callous , standing firm and unmoving in my path . I wished I had taken another path or would it emerge abruptly in any path that I would have taken ? I spent many sleepless nights blaming myself .

My sycamore tree had a mysterious name ‘Autism ‘ My son was diagnosed at the age of three as having pervasive developmental disorder which comes under Autistic Spectrum . .. I wished the tree would just vanish one morning but it never did . It was real. Finally I started my climb – clumsily as I couldn’t see through my tears . WHY pounded on my head . All of a sudden an image of crucified Christ flashed before my eyes -bleeding & bruised, his face sunken eyes half closed , the crown of thorns pressed deep into his head.

I had heard that part taking of Christ suffering is a blessing. I was okay with suffering in small doses , may be at regular intervals but I never wanted this all pervasive agony .

That image somehow helped me accept the pain and I resumed my climb , marked with slides and nose dives . But I have never landed face down as the strong hands of my mighty Lord catches me , always at the right time !

View from the sycamore tree is not always inspiring as there are crowds of people passing by too.. Some of them doing the things I always wanted to do . I cannot dream of doing them anymore – the tiny hands placed in mine are no longer tiny yet they are still feeble .

But then Jesus passes by too , not just once , many times and he stops at the foot of my sycamore, looks up at me with those loving comforting eyes – that makes every moment on the tree worth it.