IN MEMORY OF A FALLEN FRIEND . . .

Our beloved willow oak tree being cut down

We lost as good friend at home last week, and Sister Lindsay and I weren't even there to say goodbye. Shortly before our departure on our mission last September, lightning struck the large willow oak tree in our front yard with devastating impact. The sheer power of the electrical surge blew a large hole in the ground at the base of the trunk and ripped open an ugly tear in the trunk that reached up nearly twenty feet from bottom to top.

At the time we didn't know that the wound would be mortal; and even when we asked a tree expert to assess the extent of the damage, we were assured that mighty oak trees like this one can sustain life even after taking a direct hit by lightning. But alas, it was not to be; and with the passing months, it soon became evident that our beautiful specimen was in serious trouble. The bark of the trunk, which provides the lifeline nourishment of the tree, began to loosen and fall to the ground in small then larger pieces. And finally with the arrival of spring, entire branches failed to show new leaves.

Our wonderful oak tree was dying; nothing could be done to keep it alive. After conferring with a professional arborist, we painfully made the decision to have it removed before it might fall and cause serious damage to our house or the neighbor's property.

I must admit that finding it necessary to cut this oak down to the ground brought some tears to my eyes. How often during the past 24 years we have lived in this house have I sat upon the front porch and enjoyed the beauty of this tree with its massive branches reaching heavenward. It has been home to songbirds in the spring and summer months, and a year round playground to skittish squirrels chasing each other up and down and around its majestic labyrinth of limbs and twigs. In season it has shaded our yard and house in the heat of the day and gathered occasional snowflakes and ice or frozen rain in wintertime. It has been a tree of all seasons, and has stood its silent watch both day and night for more than 50 years.

TREES
by Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918)

 I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
  A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
 
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
 
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

In 1964 Shel Silverstein wrote a thoughtful children's book entitled The Giving Tree. This story is about a relationship between a boy and a tree, which always provided the boy with what he wanted because the tree loved the boy. Ultimately there was nothing left for the tree to give, because only the stump of the tree remained. When the boy, now an old man returned years later, the tree said, "I have nothing left to give you."

The boy replied, "I do not need much now, just a quiet place to sit and rest."

The tree then said, "Well, an old tree stump is a good place for sitting and resting. Come boy, sit down and rest." The boy obliged and the tree was happy.

Well, our beloved tree is gone, including the stump; and in its place there is a young patch of new grass trying to pretend that it will someday become a lawn. Next time I am able to sit on the front porch at home I will have to be content to sit in the memory of the now fallen oak . . . my own giving tree!