PENTECOST XII
August 30, 2020
“Climbing a Fallen Tree”
Our back yard, like just about everyone else’s, was radically changed by the storm of Aug. 10. The gnarly old apple tree came down, and our beautiful maple broke at a right angle, landing neatly on the garage roof. The birds who visit regularly have found the relocated feeders and birdbath, but seem a little disoriented as they look for places to perch. The remaining bushes and a neighbor’s fence at the back aren’t very satisfactory. They’ve made do with the damaged tree, but seem to realize they aren’t high above everything in its branches — and they’re sideways! A few days ago, I spotted a young squirrel —kind of a scrawny little guy, climbing around on the broken trunk, jumping from branch to branch, but of course, not able to go up. But that’s what was there, so he seemed to make the best of it.
It’s easy to impart human qualities to birds and animals — we think the cardinals must be happy because their songs are so tuneful and cheerful sounding. The playful nature of squirrels, as two or three chase at a furious pace reminds us of high-energy children on a playground. So I’ve decided to try to take a life lesson from our adaptable backyard visitors.
Storms come to every life, unwanted and unasked for, but nonetheless they come. They can be intensely personal, such as physical, mental, or emotional health issues, family conflicts, or financial struggles. Others are community wide, as the storm destruction we’ve experienced, and we’re working our way through the shock, the sense of loss, and even anger as we feel targeted by the forces of nature. The physical work, the financial hit, taking care of the business of our losses as we contact the insurance people, the tree crew, the roofer, other contractors, can add up to a nearly overwhelming burden.
Not everyone can be brave and strong and optimistic all the time — in fact it’s important and healthy for people to allow themselves time to grieve, to complain, and to express worry. Our communities of faith provide places where we can share these burdens. It’s not easy, as we’re not gathering physically in our church, to talk, to shed a tear or two, to share a hug or handshake, or to sit quietly alongside one another. Very little of our congregational life is like it was six months ago, but we’re finding ways to adapt, to continue to be God’s people in this place, sharing the eternal message of love and forgiveness in new ways. You might say that even though the tree has fallen, we’re still climbing, taking action as we can, and making the most of the opportunities before us.
Martin Luther was a prolific writer, composer, and man of many words. I’ve been told one of my favorite quotes is probably not from Luther himself, but has been attributed him for a very long time. Whoever said it, I thank the person, and am beginning to plan for the next generation of trees.
“Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.” (Attributed to Martin Luther)
Living with loss and hope,
Your friend in Christ,
Mary Rogers