trees – Salt

Like a Tree

We thank you for trees–and for human lives.

The pecan tree had provided a canopy over our yard for as long as I have lived here. It was so present, I forgot to remember it was there. Does that make sense?

Last week, the tree was cut down. Thundered to the ground.

Now, it is gone. And I don’t think I realized until now just how important that tree was to how I see our yard. The yard looks vacant now. And up above, where the tree touched the skyline? Empty.

That tree shaded a corner of our world. Provided fruit for wintering squirrels. She was a noble tree, and birds of many kinds were drawn to her and made their nests in her kind and welcoming branches.

I am going to miss that tree. It is amazing just how much sunlight she filtered out from our yard, and I celebrate the new light gifted to us by the tree’s absence. But–yes–I will miss her.

So, today, I honor who she was in our lives and give thanks for God’s gift of trees. They teach us, I think, to send roots down deep into God’s earth. And they teach us to be nesting places for those who need shelter from life’s storms.

Planting, cultivating God,

We thank you for trees.
For roots that search out the depths of the earth.
For branches that reach out.
For leaves that dance and play in springtime sun.

Planting, cultivating God,
We thank you for trees.

Creating, loving God,

We thank you for human lives.
For faith that searches out the depths of life.
For actions that reach out, touch, and transform communities.
For hearts that dance and play in your gracious light.

Creating, loving God,
We thank you for human lives.

We gather today to thank you especially for human lives lost to Covid-19 and for those who risk their lives to care for others in these days.

They are like trees. Planted. Growing. Thriving.
We honor them today and seek your blessing on their lives.

Create us again, loving God.
Plant us by living streams.
Cultivate in us courage to reach out, touch, and transform.

We give you thanks. For trees. And human lives. Planted.

Amen and Amen.

Who Indeed?

Who will save us?

Who?

Penny and Bella have ears to hear
what I cannot—

We cock our heads
toward the tree outside the
living room window and listen
for the Monday morning cry:

Who?

Who what?

Who is that?

Who am I?

Who?

So a day in the life begins
with barking dogs and sleepy-eyed
gazes up into backyard trees—

Who indeed—

At work we wonder together
over coffee in a morning
of magical meetings,
ponder tangled tree vines
of abiding belovedness,
wander around in each other’s stories,
while time stops, just for a moment—
who are we?

Later, a different we WebEx-es to Peru;
who can save rainforests from goldrushers?
A river of life runs through those trees—
“Madre de Dios”—
who will save us?

Later still, another we
praises the power of mighty oaks
to bend down close and breathe
beatitudes into broken bodies; then we
cheer as a third-grade drum major
rehearses his moves right there
in the middle of the office floor,
tubas and trumpets and trombones
blaring out from an iPhone
plugged into the wall.
We—celebrate mighty oaks and
relish who he is,
imagine with joy
who he will become.

Home. Facebook remembers.
I do too. One year ago today
a communal we made a
pilgrimage to Temple Emmanuel.
Lit candles.
Held vigil.
Held hands. Prayed
for the Tree of Life and
for lives lost to violence.
Who will save us?

So it is night. We—Bella and Penny and I—
are waiting—

—listening.

An owl.
Settles into the nook
of a stalwart tree out back.
No cheerful aria.
Instead a melancholy cry—

Who?

Who am I?

Who are we?

Sleep comes and
with it a prayer:

Who indeed—

Note: Wake Forest University has an amazing research partnership in Peru called Cincia—Centro de Innovacionetr Scientifica Amazonica. I met the director of the program, Luis Fernandez, through WebEx today. Cincia is working with a wide range of partners, including local Peruvians, to combat deforestation in the Peruvian rainforest. Madre de Dios means “Mother of God” and is a region in the south of Peru covered by dense Amazonian jungle.