I
have always appreciated the beauty and grandeur of old, tall, solid
trees, but not as much as now. We own 29 wooded acres on a piece of
lake property here in my hometown in southwest Michigan. A couple of
weeks ago a tornado ripped through those woods, and the only word I
can think of for the result is “devastating.” Unbelievable
destruction.
No
buildings were lost. No lives were lost. That, of course, is
something to be thankful for. However, when I say no lives were lost,
that isn’t really true. About fifty lives were lost – big, old,
tall, straight, strong trees, with branches that reached a good
thirty to fifty feet across – branches that also reached to the
heavens as though to honor God. Oak trees. Maple trees. Beech trees.
Pine trees. You name the Michigan species, we probably had it. We had
probably one of the tallest pine trees in Berrien County. It stuck
way up above all the other tallest trees on the property. There is no
telling how old it was.
That
tree disappeared. We had to hunt for it. Our son finally found it
lying in pieces down in the creek.
I
see old trees as kind of like old men. Human beings sprout from a
tiny seed, just like oak trees sprout from little acorns, or like
maple trees sprout from those fluttering little butterfly seeds that
fall every spring and are swept off patios and driveways. Human
beings grow and need to be nurtured, just like young trees need to be
watered and pruned – or if they are in a forest, they struggle to
make room for themselves amid the bigger trees. When trees reach
their “teenage” years, they are very strong and full and
beautiful, with solid roots that by then have taken a good hold, and
with the ability to fight off diseases and vermin – just like human
teenagers are strong and beautiful and healthy and able to fight off
diseases and overcome injuries. Trees keep growing bigger and
stronger, and I see those that are thirty and forty years old as
getting wiser, like older people.
Then
comes the older trees – still big and beautiful, but with scars,
perhaps from lightening, wind damage, disease that is trying to set
in but has not quite killed the tree. A few branches die, but the
tree itself keeps growing. That, too, is just like humans. We get
old. We aren’t as beautiful and full and strong as we were. We have
scars from surgeries and wear and tear. We have wrinkled skin. We
lose our hearing. We might lose a few teeth. We lose our strength,
and yes, we sometimes we keep growing! Just in the wrong directions!
We get diseases that harm certain organs, but we are still alive.
Some humans remain fairly strong and healthy into old age, as do some
old trees, but the human, and the tree, will never be the same as
when they were young.
And
just as it’s sad when an old human being dies after living a good,
long life, it’s sad to see a tree die. The saddest of all is when a
good, strong tree, whether a teenager, middle-aged, or very old, dies
not from age, but from a force they cannot fight. Just think – a
large, heavy vehicle can hit a tree and be completely demolished,
while the tree is still standing there, unscathed. But then along
comes Mother Nature, and …
Wind
can be an amazing, fearsome force. Humans can’t just push down a
tree, not even a small one. Even taking down a tree with machinery is
no easy feat. You can spend all day, or several days, cutting off
branches first, then cutting down the trunk, then digging and pushing
out the huge stump. It takes big, expensive equipment, several men,
power saws, bulldozers, and it’s dangerous work. But wind can come
along and destroy a mighty oak tree in seconds, ripping it right out
of the ground. It can break off foot-wide branches like toothpicks
and leave splintered wood sticking high into the air. God’s forces
are so much more fearsome and powerful than anything man can create,
including the atom bomb. How often have we heard that an earthquake
or a volcano had the force of “several” atom bombs?
Such
a force swept through our woods. My husband has worked on these
trees, culling out the bad ones, saving the most beautiful ones, for
46 years, and in one swoop, a wind came along and destroyed most of
his hard work. What is left is something that will take much more
than one man with a chain saw to clean up. But the saddest thing I
see in all those big, old, beautiful trees lying uprooted, is the
vision of old men who have gone to their graves.
Hope
comes with the fact that next spring those fluttery maple seeds and
those acorns and whatever seeds come from other trees will find their
way into the earth again. They will sprout, and the cycle will start
all over again, just like with human beings. But my husband and I
literally “grieve” for the loss of so many of those big, old,
strong, spectacular trees that were lost one night to a force they
couldn’t handle. I now have greater respect for the power of Mother
Nature and the things men can’t – and never will - control.
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