| Sunny Side Up! August 29, 2001 � 2001, by Kathleen Gibson Lives need pruning too, sometimes There�s a thirty or forty foot Manitoba maple tree in our backyard, just outside my office window. About eight feet from the ground its broad trunk branches into two fat limbs that stretch wide and support a thick canopy of leaves�welcome relief from the summer sun�s scorching rays. The tree�s susurrant sound is the music I write to. But during our last storm, between the drum rolls and the light show, we noticed a large crack between those two thick limbs. Each wind gust pushed the main trunk apart, exposing wet, yellow wood. When the wind stopped puffing the split came stubbornly together again. We would never have noticed it, if not for the storm. The tree survived that day, but it was obvious that the next big wind would topple it altogether, likely sending it crashing onto our roof�or the neighbors�. So we called the tree man. Hands in pockets, he walked all around it, inspecting, and finally suggested that he cut it just above the crack. "What good is that?" I asked, ignorant in the ways of trees. �The split would still be there. In a few years, we'd have to cut it all down anyway." The tree expert laughed, and ran his hand affectionately over the scraggy bark of the wounded tree. "You can't kill a maple," he said. "They'll bounce back no matter what nature throws them. When we cut off the heavy top, it'll give the tree a chance to form a scab around this crack and the two sides�ll grow together. In a few years you'll have a lovely bushy topped maple again, stronger than it ever was before." That tree, and that conversation have niggled at me all week. Just today, as I glanced out my window before sitting down to my computer, I realized why. I�m very much like that Manitoba maple. Imperceptibly, like the tree�s slow growth, my life becomes top-heavy with constant activity, worries, unresolved differences, unnecessary baggage�collectively a massive weight that threatens all aspects of my well-being. Strange, but I don�t notice the cracks until life gets stormy, and I�m creaking in the wind. So I call an expert. He walks around my life, looks deep inside, recommends what �limbs� should be hacked, tells me how to start, sticks around to help. It�s always painful, but the long-term results are beautiful beyond description. Fresh life works its healing magic, knits me together again. I have sky! New room to grow up into. Not overnight of course�but eventually a bushy crown of new, greening, fruitful branches grows from that ugly stump where so much has been cut away. If you need someone to walk around your life and reassure you that you can be salvaged, I recommend God. He really knows trees, but he specializes in people, and he doesn�t charge a thing. But do it before the next big wind. You can respond to this column at [email protected] |