I’m Kind of a Tree-Hugger

I’m Kind of a Tree-Hugger

“You need to tumbar that tree. Is pudrido.

“What? Rotten? Cut it down?” I stared up at the fifty-foot giant oak.  It can’t be I thought.

That tree was one of the main things I loved about this house. It’s big and strong and gives tons of shade and… I don’t have to plant anything. It’s already here.

“Is dying. If you don’t tumbar it now, it will fall and dañar el techo.”

The giant limbs of the tree were indeed already slouched over the roof. I’m going to lose all that shade from this brutal sun. Why does it always have to turn out like this?

I nodded in sadness as I gave the go-ahead to fell that beautiful oak.

Maybe I’m over-thinking, but the whole experience made me really sentimental. I kind of wanted to just hug that poor old tree. That tree has taken years to grow and in one afternoon it’s going to be hauled off as firewood.

And I have to replace it. To plant something new.

Got me thinking. If you are going to live above the norm I’m convinced you’ve gotta plant more than you harvest.

I don’t like this reality.

I’d rather just sit around and enjoy the shade of a tree someone else planted.

There will be times when you get to enjoy the shade of something already planted, but I think those who are called to live differently are mostly planters.

I may be long gone by the time the tree I plant gives the same shade as the one I had to cut down.  But I can’t think too much about that. For now I just need to keep planting. Doing all I can to keep life springing up around me.

The one who plants and the one who waters have one purpose, and they will each be rewarded according to their own labor. 1 Cor. 3:8