The majestic tree stands in glory, shining white against the barren gray of its companions. Planted by the hand of God long before I came to honor its beauty, it graces the winter woods beside the river. For more than twenty years I have watched the sycamore praise God, its arms raised towards heaven in silent prayer. I wonder if the river gently washing the earth beyond its canopy knows today the sycamore’s voice will be silenced. I wonder if today the river will be muddied by the tears of God that mingle with my own.
The holly and the oak are also unaware that killing machines beyond the swell march ever closer to devour them. The sycamore awoke this morning to shine in the sun and give glory to God. In minutes it will be felled to make way for concrete poles that have no arms for glory or hearts for prayer.
I said goodbye to the sycamore as I passed today. I felt I should stand with my friend, to offer comfort as it slipped into memory, but I couldn’t bear to watch. All I could do was say thank you, and I’m sorry. I am so very sorry.
When will we ever learn? When will we ever learn?
Reflections:
"God writes the gospel not in the Bible alone, but on trees and flowers and clouds and stars." ~Martin Luther
"Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul." ~John Muir
"The human spirit needs places where nature has not been rearranged by the hand of man." ~Author Unknown
- How does my heart respond to these quotes? Do I agree?
- If we define the word spiritual as "connected to God," is there a place in creation that I would describe as spiritual? How would I describe it to someone who hasn't been there. What does it teach me of God?
Bunny,
ReplyDeleteI really liked this post. The picture is awesome, too. I just finished a book called Living Large that talks about how we, as Americans, do everything to the biggest and baddest degree. This is much to the detriment of the environment and even ourselves. I also like the blog site.
Laurie
Thank you for your comment, Laurie, and for the book recommendation. I'll have to check it out.
ReplyDeleteIt is sad what we do in the name of "progress." Sometimes I think seeing that requires living long enough to appreciate what has been lost.
Hi Bunny,
ReplyDeleteI am a friend of your mother's and she suggested I read your blog. She had high praise and she is correct.
I understand so well your saying goodby to the tree. I mourned over the loss of a three hundred year old oak tree beside the house where I grew up and where I played as a child. The tree became a symbol to me of my mother and when the tree was killed by too many lightening strikes and had to be cut down. I cried and cried. To me, having lost my mother a few years earlier, when the tree was gone, there was nothing left in that place for me.
Your comments about the oak tree touched me. So many people don't understand these things are so much more than "just trees." I could identify with your feelings about your mother. I had a peach tree that died several years after I lost my daughter. It was like loosing another piece of her. I planted a cherry tree in it's place. Watching it grow and mature has become symbolic of my own healing.
ReplyDelete