On Friday, July 3, my husband and I were in downtown Kent with family, awaiting the annual fireworks display. At about nine o’clock, the weather suddenly changed. The wind whipped up and dark clouds filled the sky. We grabbed our chairs and ran for the cars. As we scurried along, huge gusts of wind pushed hard against us. Just as we drove off, the rain began, pouring down in torrents.
When we got home a few minutes later, the car’s headlights revealed a totally different landscape than we had left an hour or so ago: a huge cherry tree at the edge of our property had fallen. Amazingly, it had not taken down the fence next to it–or our little barn, just beyond the fence. Somehow, the tree fell right between the two. It did tear our flagpole out of the earth; we could see the flags sticking out underneath the fallen branches. We were immediately filled with gratitude that so little damage had occurred.
Early the next morning, as my husband headed outside to begin the cleanup, my kids and their spouses, all of whom were in town that week, showed up to help. I was chief cook and “go-fer” for the crew.
As I kept everyone caffeinated, hydrated and fed, I noticed that all of us stopped, from time to time, to simply study the tree. This was partly to figure out how to cut it the rest of the way down; how to deal with the huge mess it had made. But for me, it was more than that.
It was a moment of gratitude and, in a way, awe. And also, a goodbye to a lovely old tree. I thought of the many years it had stood there, sheltering squirrels and birds, providing shade for other animals, including humans.
Several moments touched me deeply that day. The first was experiencing all of us together, working as one, in response to an unexpected predicament. Also, moments when one or another of us gently touched the tree, acknowledging its presence. Another was when my daughter opened her gloved hand to show us a tiny miracle: an acorn she found inside the remains of the tree. How wondrous it seemed, to think of an old cherry tree sheltering the seed of an oak tree.
Next, several deer, including a fawn, came out of the woods, walking calmly into the midst of a family of humans, undeterred by the earsplitting roar of the power saw. They stopped about six feet away and began munching on the pile of soft, twiggy branches that were the first to be cut off of the tree trunk. To me, even amidst all the noise and activity, their presence felt like a quiet prayer.
The moment that touched me most profoundly was our discovery that the tree, which had looked so healthy, had been dying from the inside out. Its interior was decaying, much of it hollowed out. Only when it had fallen was this revealed.
Now, I find myself reflecting on how quickly life can change, how large, graceful trees can fall in an instant. How homes and neighborhoods can be wiped out, due to fires or tornadoes or wars. How those we love can pass away just as suddenly, leaving us bereft.
I think of the people all around us who, unbeknown to us, are carrying despair, anguish, grief or loneliness inside. Like the cherry tree, they may look fine on the outside, so how can we help our sisters and brothers who may be carrying such inner pain?
It was a question that haunted me for years after losing my late husband, who lived most of his life with bipolar disorder. How could I know him so well, and yet not see that the disease was hollowing him from the inside out?
The answer, of course, is that we cannot always know what is deep inside a tree, or a loved one, or a stranger we pass on the street. Even if we do know, it may not be in our power to change it. But perhaps there are ways we can be more present to one another.
Study those around you. Touch one another. Reach out; be shelter to each other. Join with others to make a difference in the world. Create a personal environment that encourages and makes space for those who may be in need of help or support.
May those who carry heavy burdens step quietly out of the woods, and find peace, comfort and wholeness among us.
Kathy Baker
Kathy Baker is a writer and speaker, a messenger of encouragement who loves to touch hearts and tickle souls with her work. She is the author of “Leaving Adversity Plaza,” and “A Tale of Three Choices: His, Hers, Mine.” She loves hearing from her readers and can be reached at kathybakerwrites@gmail.com.