The Crape Myrtle lived across the street and in its season, gave beautiful pink flowers. When I really focused on it, I saw that it was shaped like a heart. It was never a robust tree, most likely because it sat on a very small plot of land between two driveways. I don’t believe it belonged to anyone but me. The only love it ever received was from God with rain and sunshine. It had long skinny limbs never failing to delight with its timely blossoms.
If one could connect with a tree, I did. Many years at my desk I pondered and worked with this beauty in my sight. She carried my joy on her spindly branches as well as the weight of my sorrow. My appreciation of her sparked creativity in me and I was grateful.
One summer morning I heard a loud, disruptive noise outside and watched from my window the trimming and chipping. When I realized that two thirds of the tree had been cut, I went outside to witness its final moments. Tears welled in my eyes. From one of the houses across the street, a neighbor came out to watch as well. I wondered how she felt about the cutting. Was she thinking, “what are they doing to my tree?” or “good riddance to this messy beast?” I don’t know and will never ask her, but I choose to believe we shared the same sentiment.
Beauty, you are now a part of my soul. Thank you, tree. Thank you, God.
2 Corinthians 4:18
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
