Trees of the Field

Our summer weather continues to amaze and wilt us. Today it is in the 80’s – 30degrees C – which is unheard of in this corner of the globe. Loving it.

So Dusty and I opted for the ‘wet walk’ at Crathes Castle around 11 this morning. Or the ‘swimming for sticks’ walk – both names are recognised by Dusty who eagerly races to the car. Only today, with the summer weather we’ve been having, the wet walk was rather dried up! Well, only the big loch, really. The burns still gurgled, though less full than normal.

After several stick throwing diversions, Dusty and I headed on towards the Castle and I suddenly noticed the trees. Not that I wasn’t aware of them – they provided the canopy of cool which Dusty especially was loving. What I noticed, though, was how many broken-off branches there were lower down, before the leafy bits at the tops. I wondered how many of the branches were casualties of the weather – wind or lightning perhaps – and how many were pruned off? I wondered if any had just withered and died, malnourished from the centre somehow. 

Our lives are a bit like that. How many branches budded forth in my life, promising fulfilment perhaps, only to wither and die as I neglected to feed them? Ideas I’ve had for writing projects, for instance. Intentions of visiting shut-ins, perhaps. 

How many branches were growing strongly and then suddenly got broken off by external forces? Relationships which were broken – perhaps because someone died, like my sister Judy. Relationships which just withered because I didn’t nurture them. Relationships which became diseased in some way and were allowed to die.

Does my life have all the branches it is supposed to, or have i let God and myself down by allowing some to break off or wither?

There’s something so wonderful about tall trees. So majestic. So strong. Some, so ancient. We celebrate the bits we see, and forget about the branches that may have once given shelter to birds, shade to cows, but which are no longer there.

There’s a verse in the Old Testament about the ‘trees of the field clapping their hands’. Strange verse. But it refers to the days when heaven will be re-established on earth. When earth will once more be all it was created to be. Joy will be the norm, not sorrow.

Something reminiscent of branches in the clapping of a tree’s hands. I pray that on that incredible day when earth is once again 100% the Lord’s, all my branches will be restored, and I’ll be clapping them in jubilation.