I once heard a fable about the trees of a mighty forest. Many years before, a few acorns had been scattered in especially fertile soil and they quickly sprang up first as mere saplings and then as mighty oaks. Because the soil was so rich, they grew quickly and they soon towered over all the trees around them, even those that were much older.
Soon these young oaks began to look with contempt at the rest of the forest, to boast of their size and splendor. Clapping their hands in glee they bragged, “You can only wish you were as tall as we are! You can only wish you could see what we see!” But what they did not know, or perhaps chose not to acknowledge, is that while the soil may have been rich, it was not deep. While it may have contained many nutrients, it sat atop great shelves of impenetrable stone.
The day came when a great winter wind began to blow from the north and as it struck, the whole forest shuddered in pain. As the gusts reached the boastful oaks, they stood strong for a time, but soon enough began to shake, to totter,
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