HOPE IN OLD STUMPS
The country will look like pine and oak forest
with every tree cut down—
Every tree a stump, a huge field of stumps.
But there's a holy seed in those stumps."
Isaiah 6:13, THE MESSAGE
"As soon as Babylon's seventy years are up and not a day before, I'll show up and take care of you as I promised and bring you back home. I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for. 12"When you call on me, when you come and pray to me, I'll listen. 13-14"When you come looking for me, you'll find me. "Yes, when you get serious about finding me and want it more than anything else, I'll make sure you won't be disappointed."
Jeremiah 29:10-14a, THE MESSAGE
When I was in middle school, my parents bought my grandparent's farmstead. The front yard was shaded by tall trees my grandmother had started from seeds. In the back were plum trees Grandma had planted. I loved those trees. They were like part of the family. They linked me to my the childhood of my mother and aunt and uncles, and they were witnesses to the life my grandmother and grandfather had built together. I climbed those trees, spread a blanket in their shade and read library books during the summers, and ate their fruit, warm and juicy, from the trees.
When I was a senior in high school, my parents sold the house, and we moved into town, the same year my grandmother died. A few years later, I drove past the place and was outraged to find that the new owners had cut down all of Grandma's trees. I think I grieved those trees as much as I grieved my grandmother's death.
So, too, we in Vinton and Garrison are grieving the loss of their trees from the storm are so saddened from the loss of our trees. These beautiful trees that have long been part of the landscape and people's personal stories. They have shaded homes and yards, sheltered birds and squirrels, and heard the laughter of our children at play. Swings and bird feeders hung from their branches. Along the river, we've watched eagles skim the tree tops as we've driven into Vinton.
Perhaps one of the trees you lost was given to you as a gift or planted to mark a birth or an anniversary. They are like old family friends who have been part of the life and times of our communities. In a way, their stumps and broken trunks have come to represent everything that was lost and destroyed by the storm, including our plans and expectations of what we hold as "normal."
In the passage from Isaian 6, tree stumps symbolize God's ability to bring hope and life out of loss and destruction. In the stumps of the destroyed forest are holy seeds -- holy seeds of hope and God's future of redemption.
I think it's all right to be sad about losing all those lovely trees and all they've come to mean to us. I also think it's important to look for signs of those seeds of hope God has planted in our circumstances. How can we celebrate our confidence that God is working for our good according to God's will? What can we do to help us take that first step into God's future for us?
Once the brush has been cleaned out and the stumps have been removed, plant a few trees in your yard. Make it a special time with family and friends with a cookout. Read Jeremaih 29:10-14a. It will take years before the trees are fully grown, but you can still imagine what how they will become part of your lives: the birds that will sit in their branches, the nests that will be built and the new life that will hatch from the little eggs laid in them; the beauty of fall leaves, the anticipation of green buds and new leaves in the spring and the shade in summer; marking their growth along with the growth of children and grandchildren. Think about how these new friends will become part of your stories and the stories of those generations to follow.
As you grieve, look for the holy seeds of hope. Plant a tree or two and invision the future God has in store for us.
with every tree cut down—
Every tree a stump, a huge field of stumps.
But there's a holy seed in those stumps."
Isaiah 6:13, THE MESSAGE
"As soon as Babylon's seventy years are up and not a day before, I'll show up and take care of you as I promised and bring you back home. I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for. 12"When you call on me, when you come and pray to me, I'll listen. 13-14"When you come looking for me, you'll find me. "Yes, when you get serious about finding me and want it more than anything else, I'll make sure you won't be disappointed."
Jeremiah 29:10-14a, THE MESSAGE
When I was in middle school, my parents bought my grandparent's farmstead. The front yard was shaded by tall trees my grandmother had started from seeds. In the back were plum trees Grandma had planted. I loved those trees. They were like part of the family. They linked me to my the childhood of my mother and aunt and uncles, and they were witnesses to the life my grandmother and grandfather had built together. I climbed those trees, spread a blanket in their shade and read library books during the summers, and ate their fruit, warm and juicy, from the trees.
When I was a senior in high school, my parents sold the house, and we moved into town, the same year my grandmother died. A few years later, I drove past the place and was outraged to find that the new owners had cut down all of Grandma's trees. I think I grieved those trees as much as I grieved my grandmother's death.
So, too, we in Vinton and Garrison are grieving the loss of their trees from the storm are so saddened from the loss of our trees. These beautiful trees that have long been part of the landscape and people's personal stories. They have shaded homes and yards, sheltered birds and squirrels, and heard the laughter of our children at play. Swings and bird feeders hung from their branches. Along the river, we've watched eagles skim the tree tops as we've driven into Vinton.
Perhaps one of the trees you lost was given to you as a gift or planted to mark a birth or an anniversary. They are like old family friends who have been part of the life and times of our communities. In a way, their stumps and broken trunks have come to represent everything that was lost and destroyed by the storm, including our plans and expectations of what we hold as "normal."
In the passage from Isaian 6, tree stumps symbolize God's ability to bring hope and life out of loss and destruction. In the stumps of the destroyed forest are holy seeds -- holy seeds of hope and God's future of redemption.
I think it's all right to be sad about losing all those lovely trees and all they've come to mean to us. I also think it's important to look for signs of those seeds of hope God has planted in our circumstances. How can we celebrate our confidence that God is working for our good according to God's will? What can we do to help us take that first step into God's future for us?
Once the brush has been cleaned out and the stumps have been removed, plant a few trees in your yard. Make it a special time with family and friends with a cookout. Read Jeremaih 29:10-14a. It will take years before the trees are fully grown, but you can still imagine what how they will become part of your lives: the birds that will sit in their branches, the nests that will be built and the new life that will hatch from the little eggs laid in them; the beauty of fall leaves, the anticipation of green buds and new leaves in the spring and the shade in summer; marking their growth along with the growth of children and grandchildren. Think about how these new friends will become part of your stories and the stories of those generations to follow.
As you grieve, look for the holy seeds of hope. Plant a tree or two and invision the future God has in store for us.
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