One evening, dark clouds rolled over the valley. Thunder shook the mountains, and lightning split the sky. Rain poured in fierce rivers, and winds tore through the forest.
The lion roared, but the storm drowned out his voice.
The fox darted from den to den, but his cunning could not stop the flood.
The deer ran swiftly, but there was no safe place to run.
Even the mighty bear struggled as the waters rose.
The animals panicked, until they remembered the great oak.
“Help us!” they cried, gathering beneath its mighty branches.
The oak swayed but did not fall, for its roots were deep in the soil, drinking from streams hidden below.
With a groan like a hymn, the oak spoke:
“You boast of your gifts, but they could not save you. Strength, speed, wit—all fail without the One who gave them. My roots hold fast because I do not stand in my own power. I draw life from God, who made the soil, the rain, and the sun. Put Him first, and you too will stand when storms come.”
