Discovering the meaning of life

published May 5, 2011

in the Stockton Sentinel

Stockton, Kansas

            The only thing I love more than digging in the dirt to plant things is actually seeing something grow that I’ve planted. I enjoyed the opportunity to play in the dirt last weekend and have gotten a small start on my lofty plans for the summer. It seems like the weather just hasn’t cooperated well enough to allow for planting, but then I also have a rule not to plant before Mother’s Day. That rule doesn’t stop me from browsing through all the plant stores and nurseries. Every time I walk through the plants, the list of projects in my head just gets longer. My plans always include much more than my husband’s back can handle.

            The place of earth that we bought here in Stockton three years ago has a lot of project potential, but there is the matter of priorities – not only prioritizing my projects themselves, but prioritizing my husband’s project list against mine. I need his help with many of my priorities, and therein lies the problem. We just don’t seem to get around to my projects because they’re not on his list of priorities.  

            Sadly, this spring, we lost one of the prettiest focal points on our yard: a redbud tree. It was healthy last summer and showed no sign of illness or distress, but apparently it fell victim to winterkill. I can’t help but keep looking at it for a sign of life – a miracle of rebirth – but any of its little branches snap off easily, so I know it will have to come down. As difficult as it will be, removing the dead tree will be on my priority list, and hopefully also my husband’s list, very soon.

            We loved that tree, especially during this season of its bloom, and now to see it stark and naked, when all other redbuds are showing off their beautiful pink blossoms, is very sad indeed. It had such a pretty shape to it; we had trimmed it to provide a shady canopy-like entrance at our backyard trellis gate. The past couple of summers, wrens have made their home in birdhouses that I had placed among the branches of the little tree. This summer, I imagine the wrens will be just as sad about their loss as I am. I will treasure the pictures I have taken of that pretty tree, especially a picture taken during one of our visits to the place before we bought it.

            We visited Hays Greenhouse last Sunday afternoon and looked at trees. They are all so short and skinny, not full and round and well-shaped like our tree was. Much like a good friend or a dear pet, it is just too soon after losing the redbud to already be thinking of replacing it. But soon, we will cut it down and perhaps use the wood for a fire in the chiminea, recycling the tree for another useful purpose. And sometime this summer, we hope to plant a new tree, possibly several. But it takes a long time for a tree to grow and fill in nicely, so it is very possible that what we plant will be enjoyed by someone else.

            A theologian by the name of Elton Trueblood said:  “A man has made at least a start on discovering the meaning of human life when he plants shade trees under which he knows full well he will never sit.” This summer, it is one of my priorities – and I hope it will also be a priority of my husband’s – to make “at least a start” on that discovery process as we plant some trees.