March 26, 2024. I Talk To The Trees

Tonight is the night I lug the garbage can out to the edge of the road. Ugh!!! I have been doing this chore week after week after week for the 18 ½ years we have called this our home. Since Mindy has been here with us, it has been her job to gather all the trash in the house and put the bags at the door by my studio. Literally, she places the bags at the door by my studio, where I have to stumble over them, sometimes falling, sprawled out into the garbage, in order to open the door to the outside. You would think … Oh well…

My job - I will grab the numerous white plastic garbage bags and deposit them into the large green can outside, then, roll it to the edge of the road, where it will be emptied by the large, LOUD, lumbering, yellow garbage truck sometime tomorrow. I wonder if other people can hear me, as the turning of the small wheels of the garbage can make a rather strident sound as they roll over the little rocks and limbs on the way to the edge of the road so early in the morning. I pause and whence, as I remember causing the sounds of little pebbles being crushed and branches being broken, echoing down the hill. In my mind I see neighbors stumble out of bed, turn on their lights and peer through their blinds in my direction, their sleep interrupted by my duties. Pat is pulling his trash can to the edge of the street… AGAIN, Late at night when everyone SHOULD BE SLEEPING!

It's 1:30 am. It's rather cool outside, so I donned my jacket, grabbed a flashlight and headed out into the blackness of the early morning. Bags in tow, I headed to the dirty garbage can where I plopped each bag inside. The large lid shouted BANG as I dropped it. BANG, BANG, Bang, bang, as the piercing noise echoed down the street. I turned the can around, and headed into the darkness where the edge of the road lay somewhere ahead.

Crunch, Crack. Crunch, Crack, Crunch, Crack. As I walked slowly, dragging the can behind me, I thought I caught a glimpse of light in the window of a neighbor, peering through his blinds to where the interruption in his sleep patterns echoed off his home. I looked up at the huge White Oaks & Pines, which stretched their branches and fingers in a sleepy yawn far up into the night sky. As I listened to the birds trilling their songs in the night, singing to family and loved ones in the hills, one thing dawned on me.

Their branches spread upward, gently waiving back and forth in the breeze. Stretching and leaning. Stretching and leaning. They reached toward the majesty of Orion. The Pleiades and Cassiopeia. The Big Bear & the Little Bear, & the North Star, yet not once did I hear one of these massive trees yell at God, trying to figure out how they are going to make it through the night, nor how they will face tomorrow. They will face it the very same way they are facing it now: trunks firmly planted by their roots, which burrow far down into the foundation of the earth, arms raised in praise to the sky where the Father of All resides. They know their God is Faithful. He took care of them yesterday. Now, some-how, some-way He will take care of their todays AND their tomorrows. Therefore, they do not concern themselves with things over which they have no control. They give their worries to their Faithful God, and continue carrying out their assignments to the best of their ability. Father God has called on them to perform their specific duty, and that is the focus of their faithful existence each and every day and night, all done to His glory.

As I strained to listen, I couldn’t detect even one of them complaining to their God they would rather be a bush, or a flower, or a potted plant. I didn’t hear a single one muttering their discontent with the bugs that tickled their bark, or which chewed on their skin. They are content with the assignment with which their God has given them, and they will continue faithfully, without a single murmur or a complaint, carrying out His requests.

Through droughts. Through dry rot. Through the holes bored deep into their flesh by the mamma Woodpeckers & Bumblebees, trying to make a good, comfortable home for their soon expected little ones. They continue digging their roots further down into the nurturing soil, and stretching their massive limbs far up into the sky in praise each day and each night, until it is their time to go home.

Hmmmm… there is a lesson there, somewhere.

Just my thoughts…