can’t see the FUTURE for the trees
Over the past 24 hours I have said goodbye to some old friends. And by “friends” I mean several mature trees I have loved here on the property we moved to just five years ago. Had they not been in varying stages of dying and in danger of hitting the house during a storm, I would have left them alone.
Because I loved them. ALL.
One of the hardest to lose was a persimmon, which the previous homeowner had strategically planted in front of our dining room window to draw out the deer (they love its fruit). Another was a fifty-foot walnut tree, which I’m happy to say is being harvested by a local woodworker and will live on in some other form.
The hardest to lose by far, however, was a sixty-foot ash that has felt like a friend outside my office window. About an hour ago the tree guys took her down, and as I write this, I am viewing a very different landscape shaped by her absence.
And something surprising is happening inside of me…
While I have loved and fought to keep these trees - in denial about the necessary ending of their presence in my life - now that they’re gone, I’m feeling buoyed by the sudden opening of spaces I didn’t realize were so closed before.
It feels like a weight has been lifted from my chest, and my eyes can open wider than before.
In the back, losing the walnut and persimmon has made the yard seem larger, and gained us a clear line of sight to more beautiful trees we hadn’t noticed before, including a 100-year-old sugar-maple that is stunning with it’s golden leaves right now. In the front, where I’m sitting as I write this, I can gaze for the first time upon a distant mountain range which previously was obscured by dead tree limbs.
And I’m struck by the spiritual implications…
How many unhealthy systems, or ideas, or relationships, or habits, or jobs, or (fill in the blank) do we cling to every day, terrified we won’t be able to bear losing them, when in reality they are often blocking our view - and our growth - from the FUTURE God has for us?
Saying ‘goodbye’ to what’s no longer bearing fruit can be hard, but it opens your heart to say ‘hello’ to more beautiful seasons.
And if you’re anything like me, the view on the other side just might surprise you.
It was there all the time.
For TRUTH…
- cr
