A few days ago, a sharp autumn windstorm blew through my home area outside Washington, D.C.

By morning, a generous portion of an old tree on my property had finally given way. It had stood there lifeless for some time, its decay hidden behind bark that still looked solid from a distance. The storm did not kill it - it simply exposed what was already true.

It struck me how often that happens in life and in our world. What seems steady can, in reality, be hollowed out long before the winds arrive. The gusts do not cause the collapse; they reveal it. That old tree is not the story of all that falls - it is a reminder of what happens when we stop tending what still lives.

In politics, too, the storms are unrelenting. Many leaders appear sturdy and enduring, even timeless in their authority. But the real test comes when the winds pick up - when pressure, truth, or accountability blow through. That is when we learn who still has life in their roots and who has simply been standing by habit and appearance, waiting for the inevitable storm to bring them down.

So the question is what can we do to keep our institutions alive and resilient - to ensure they can withstand the tempests that are sure to come. Like the tree, they need more than a sturdy exterior; they need living roots that draw nourishment from integrity, transparency, and public trust. Renewal requires tending - pruning what no longer serves, deepening the soil of accountability, and planting new growth where decay has set in. Healthy institutions, like healthy trees, do not endure by chance. They endure because someone cared enough to keep them alive.

Many will look at America today and see our political institutions - and those elected to lead them - as withering, if not already hollowed. It is true that these are challenging times. The winds are strong, the divisions deep, and confidence in our leaders fragile. Yet I believe in these institutions, and I believe they will endure. They have weathered tempests before - wars, corruption, social unrest - and each time, renewal followed the reckoning. What sustains them is not perfection, but the collective will to repair what is broken and strengthen the roots rather than lament the fallen branches.

The same goes for the United Kingdom. The winds are stirring there too - uncertainty in leadership, shifting political tides, questions of unity and purpose. Yet the institutions remain. They, like ours, have been tested by wars, scandals, and social change, and still they stand - sometimes battered, sometimes bending, but never broken.

The tree may lose its branches. The wind may howl. But if we continue to nourish what anchors us - trust, truth, and participation - our democracies will not only endure; they will grow stronger for the test.