By: Detri L. McGhee, CLU, ChFC, B.Min.
Less than a week ago I had a mild heart attack.
The next day, a very difficult stent was finally successfully placed by maneuvering carefully around an aortic valve replacement. I was awake for the procedure, and the difficulty of the placement doubled the time and increased the mental stress of it all. But, now it’s done. I am on the mend, and in a few weeks I expect to be feeling better than I have in quite some time.
There have been dozens of things I wanted to share with you since then, but each time I sat down to write, nothing came together. Then, as I took a quiet stroll around our circle drive, I noticed these two very large, very old pine trees in the back meadow.
From my childhood, the words sprang forth: “I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree…” penned in 1913 by Alfred Joyce Kilmer. And I began to see myself, my friends and my family spoken of in these two trees.
We are all aging. Those of us who can still stand fairly tall, who have weathered many storms, and seen a multitude of seasons are somewhat the worse for wear. Some of us show our battles more than others. Some look almost moth-eaten with thinning foliage, and some of us have blossomed and filled out rather widely. One stoops a little with his walk. One has fluffy, full hair.
I thought of one whose physical appearance looked perhaps even older than its age, and the rough life had certainly left it with sparse spots and empty places. Another had years of their growth still clinging to her, with much shade protecting the grass and ground below her. She looked prosperous and regal as she towered above the squirrels.
What made the difference? Both were very tall, and the growth that still showed on them both looked surprisingly beautiful. About the third time around the circle drive I saw it. I saw what made the difference.
Almost half-way up the tall, slender, more damaged tree there was a very long rotten open area, perhaps 15 feet long, maybe 10 inches across at the most rotted out place. There was still life there in that tree, but it was harder with each storm to stand tall and keep everything running along as it should. There was disease, rot, and probably bugs and/or animals in there that were sapping the tree of its youth, energy, and strength. It was rotten on the inside, and after a while the outside showed it too.
Like people, all of creation is moaning under the weight of the sin and disease and issues of aging that this world contains.
I have had many thoughts about the old trees: What they have been privy to all these years, who shared their shade, how many animals lived in their branches, feasted on their foliage, grazed under their wide branches. Why did some have firmer roots, keeping them stronger than others? These two grew up so close to each other: Why did they end up looking so different?
Poet Kilmer sensed something very important that we all would benefit from pondering often in our lives: Natural creation is far more wondrous and divine than anything we people can write or create. How wise we are to take time to ponder God’s creation, consider how we are weathering the storms of life, and if, just perhaps, there are a few bugs we need to get rid of so we can grow healthier whatever time is left in this encasement we call home for now.
Detri L. McGhee would love to hear from you. Facebook: Detri Atkinson McGhee or
www.criticismmanagement.com www.detrimcghee@yahoo.com
By: Detri McGhee – CLU, ChFC
