I love to write poetry and I love to read poetry out loud just for the rhythm and flow of the words, and one famous poem which always comes to mind this time of the year is Joyce Kilmer’s “Trees” which is so beautiful in its simplicity.
Although Kilmer writes of the summer tree with a “nest of robins in her hair”,and the winter tree “upon whose bosom snow hath lain”, I would venture to say that he never drove through the Missouri Ozarks in the fall to see the blazing red of the autumn foliage, and the neon yellows with the sun shining through, or the orange leaves falling like miniature pumpkins from Charllie Brown’s “Great Pumpkin Tree”, or the muted mauves and dusty roses spread across the “hills and hollers” as you travel the highways and byways of the Ozarks.
I have always enjoyed the beautiful colors of fall and have my favorite routes I take to view the trees here in town. The City Cemetery of course is spectacular. The mature trees along Harwood Avemue are magnificent.
Several years ago on a fall day when I was selling insurance for New York Life, I had spent the day making sales calls out in the county and admiring the trees along the country roads, then came back into town and drove my route to once again admire the autumnal color here, then went home and was regaling Milan with all I had seen.
He listened quietly for a few minutes. (I don’t give him much opportunity to do otherwise.) Then he grinned at me and said, “Jo, have you looked out our bedroom window?” I went into the bedroom, looked out at the ground covered with leaves, then asked him to explain what he meant.
He told me to get in my car and drive around the block and approach our house as someone coming down Washington street would, and look at our own trees. I did so and what I saw took my breath away. The majestic hickory tree on the south side of our house, between us and the Pregnancy Center, was fully aglow with the afternoon sun. It seemed to light up the sky.
I realized then that I had been living right under one of the most beautiful trees in town and hadn’t even noticed it. And you know how you sometimes get all choked up and misty-eyed when God finally gets through to you in a way only He can do? Needless to say I had one of those “gotcha moments” with God which I have never forgotten, and I look forward to seeing my tree develop it’s sunshine bloom each fall.
That moment with God made me aware that we take so much for granted, sometimes envying what others have, more often just complaining about our lot in life, and fail to realize that the greatest blessings are right outside our bedroom window, overshadowing us to the extent that we can’t even see them at times, let alone realize they are there.
That revelation made me more aware of other tree moments which come each fall, each with its own life lesson.
Did you ever notice the contrast between the dark branches and the brilliant color once a tree has lost about half of its leaves? We never see this contrast in the spring and summer when the trees are a verdant green and everywhere we look there is velvety lushness.
But in the fall when the contrast is so apparent, I am reminded again that if life were all sunshine and warmth and flowers, we would never know the closeness and comfort which God brings to us in the days of trial and pain and suffering, and of how much our friends mean to us when we need them the most. It’s then we remember that life demands contrasts to allow the beauty to show.
Inevitably the frost and cold winds and chilly rains will come and the branches will again be bare, with only a few brown leaves holding on. As I write this today, my once yellow sunshine hickory tree is just bare branches silhouetted against a late October sky. The fiery glow I captured just last week with my camera is only a memory today on the home page of my cell phone and the wall of my Facebook page.
But the tree is not dead, it is just resting. And I’m reminded of Paul’s words in I Corinthians 15 where he doesn’t speak of our deceased loved ones as buried, but only as planted so that in due time, they will be raised to new life again.
And likewise, the branches of the hickory tree will burst forth with buds and bloom in the spring, and fill our entire south lawn with its canopy of summer shade until we marvel at the brightness of its leaves again next fall, and the cycle of life continues.
©Joan Hart 2018
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