What the Rainbow Eucalyptus Taught Me

I was sitting in my usual spot this morning…

Quiet.

Still.

Looking out at the tall pine trees.

And all of a sudden, I had a flashback to when we were stationed in Hawaii.

There was this tree I used to pass every day—

The rainbow eucalyptus.

I remember standing there in awe of it…

The colors.

The layers.

How something so ordinary at first glance could hold so much unexpected beauty.

Each time the bark would shed, something new was revealed underneath—

Greens.

Oranges.

Purples.

Deep maroons.

Not all at once.

Not in a rush.

Just…

Layer by layer.

And this morning, it hit me in a deeper way.

This is what growth often looks like.

Not becoming someone else…

But allowing what has been covering you to gently fall away.

The layers we outgrow.

The patterns we release.

The quiet healing that happens within.

And underneath it all…

There is beauty.

There is life.

There is something that was always there—

Just waiting to be revealed.

Sometimes growth feels like losing.

Sometimes it feels like everything is being stripped away.

But maybe it isn’t loss at all.

Maybe it’s love…

Gently pulling back the layers…

So more of who God created you to be can be seen.

Just like that tree.

And if you slow down long enough…

You might begin to notice…

God has been doing that in you all along.

Layer by layer.

Season by season.

And it’s beautiful.

~~~~~~~

Part of the Breadcrumbs collection by Abby Lewis—true stories that leave room for God to speak.