“Trees have feelings too, you know.”
A slight breeze was all it took to rustle a few leaves and start the murmuring.
“Sure, you big sap. Those gnarled limbs of yours must be predicting the weather again. “
“All I meant was…” Twiggy Wiggins stopped. What was the use? No one listened to him.
Mrs. Oakley, the reigning matriarch, spread her mighty branches in a loving gesture to gain the attention of the board group.
“Each of us has a purpose on this earth. We were created to provide shelter, shade, fuel, furniture, boats, food, and beauty. If our roots travel deep and draw sustaining water from the river of life, each one’s fruit will be borne exactly as our maker intended.”
Mrs. O. swayed gently before continuing in her soothing way.
“Now, Miss Figgie, you cannot yield apples. No matter how you strain, there is no way that gift belongs to you. On the other hand, Mr. Fuji Yapple, your fruit is tart and delicious but I seriously doubt if we will ever see a Fuji Fig in your quiver of offspring. “
There were a few chuckles and nods of agreement from the more wise and elder Flora Belle.
This was an ongoing lesson as new plants sprung up, tender and ignorant, ready to bend with the slightest storm. Annie Oakley was revered as a wise and stately family tree with many branches and tenants.
When she spoke, most of the forest timber gave heed. There were a few hardwoods who spent their whole lives just lumbering along, too dumb to fall off a log, but by and large, the trees she knew best took their assignments most seriously.
On Sunday morning she taught how much humans depended on them for more than their produce or blossoms. “You are,” she declared with much authority,” an example for men to follow.”
“Aw, Annie,” Weeping Willow whined, “ People aren’t trees. What does that mean? That makes me so sad.”
“Get a grip, Weepy. The One who created you also made all creatures. The great instruction Book uses many references to us.”
Tangerina Rindetta and Peaches Malone spoke at the same time. Their response wasn’t too earth shaking though. It merely boiled down to one, “Huh?”
“When I was a young sapling,” Annie O. continued, eager to make an important point, “ there was a mortal being who spent many afternoons sitting under my sparse limbs reading out loud from what he called Scripture. I remember one particular thing that has always stuck with me and made me keep to my business.”
She became strangely quiet; contemplative some would say, if indeed they even knew what that meant. W. Willow held back her usual sniffles. Dogwood Johnson stifled his bark. Even beautiful Miss Magnolia O’Hara dared not declare one fiddle-dee-dee. They waited with dignity and soon Mrs. Oakley shared what she had heard.
“Psalm 1:3…and he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water that brings forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither and whatsoever he does shall prosper.”
They could see she had more to say.
“Jeremiah 17:7,8…He is like a tree planted along a riverbank, with its roots reaching deep into the water – a tree not bothered by the heat nor worried by long months of drought. Its leaves stay green, and it goes right on producing all its luscious fruit.”
There was not a creak or a splinter to be heard for a while. Finally, one lonesome Pine began to sing a song about a rugged cross fashioned from the wood of a tree.
As the last note died out, they all clapped their hands in praise and appreciation that God had more in mind for them than they could comprehend. They each stood a little taller, reaching for the sun, and at the same time pushing on, thirsty for the refreshing and restorative waters of life.
It is the wise man who takes his lesson where he finds it. Trees are fine and beautiful things, treasures whose examples run deep with the truth of prosperity.
Scripture from Holy Bible (KJV)
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