The Joshua Tree

A few years ago our friend purchased a lot of little “stub” trees for his farm. He used what he could and asked us if we wanted the few he had remaining. We planted, watered, fed, and mulched them just like we were supposed to do, and a year later they had doubled in size. Two years later, all of them seemed to nearly double in size again, except for one. While the majority of them were green with large lush needles, one little tree was weak, spindly, and turning brown. Its trunk was bent from the weight of the few lowly little needles that desperately clung to its branches. “I ought to pull that tree,” Brian said, “It’s obviously not going to make it.” But, as with many momentary thoughts that we both have on any given day, he didn't get around to plucking it from its spot.

Lindsay, who I’m guessing was probably 14 at the time, noticed the weak tree a few days after Brian had, and she took pity on it. She faithfully tended it, day in and day out. I watched her through the kitchen window numerous times as she would kneel next to it, pull every weed away from its base, loosen the dirt around it, and slowly water it from a bucket. After she finished her tasks, she would sit quietly for a moment, just looking at it. The other trees did not get this special treatment, only that little runt.

This went on for the duration of the summer, and one day after completing her ritual, she came inside and told me she had named her tree “Joshua.” She also told me she was praying over that little tree, asking God to strengthen and preserve it. I realized this was what she did when she sat looking at it. She had a strong will for that tree to not only live, but to thrive, and she never failed to give attention to it. By fall, its needles were dark green, and its trunk was noticeably stronger. Brian and I were amazed, but Lindsay wasn't surprised. God was watching over her Joshua Tree.

This past weekend, Brian was outside enjoying the sunshine and took a short walk through the trees in our side yard. When he came inside he asked if I had looked at Lindsay’s tree recently. I walked to the kitchen window, and was immediately struck by the height of the Joshua Tree. I had "seen" it almost daily, but I guess I had not really "noticed" it. It was taller than those surrounding it, its branches stretched out farther than the rest, and its trunk was thicker and stronger than the others!


I have thought on that tree and its impact on my daughter's life a lot this week. You see, the day after Brian pointed out the difference in the Joshua Tree, she came to me with a heavy burden. She was struggling with things that were overwhelming to her.  I reminded her of the power of prayer, and encouraged her to pray over her situation. When that didn't seem to alleviate her doubts, I asked her if she had looked at her Joshua Tree lately. She gave me a puzzled look. As I reminded her of the story, she smiled and said “I had completely forgotten about that!” I explained to her that if God cared enough to answer her prayers over a little runt tree, she should know that He cares about her big problems too. Her eyes brightened as she turned to hug me, and she left the room a little lighter.

God speaks to us in so many ways, using every-day things that surround us to relay his messages. Are we taking time to look and listen? God cares for us to the depth that none of us can truly comprehend. Are we placing our burdens upon Him and asking Him for direction? The scripture says "...your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him." (Matthew 6:8 KJV) I have no doubt that the Lord knew of Lindsay's heartache before she ever came to talk to me, just as I have no doubt He had given Brian and me the gift of truly seeing that Joshua Tree specifically for that moment that we encountered the following day.

If the Lord wills it, the Joshua Tree will continue to grow in our side yard for many years to come, and I am certain that when Lindsay begins to doubt her faith, He can and will use that Joshua Tree to nurture her, comfort her, and build her up...in much the same way she helped it.

Work Day With S.A.M.

"S.A.M. I am." And no, I’m not speaking of the Dr. Seuss book. This S.A.M. is more giggly than even Dr. Seuss could think of being. S.A.M. is the epitome of all the craziness in pre-teen girls. S.A.M. is Shelly, Anna, and McKenzie. Shelly and McKenzie are bff’s (for you old fogies out there, that means Best Friends Forever). Anna is the little sister of Shelly. All three girls have been riding at our barn for a while now, and we have been threatening them with a work day devoted solely to them. So, we scheduled a special spring break work day. They showed up bright and early at 11:00 (okay, so maybe 11:00 isn't early, but it WAS bright!). We fed them pizza for energy before they started, and promised them brownies for dessert. Lots of brownies. And I’m not kidding when I say LOTS. I really mean LOTS! Finally, they were ready for work. And work they did. Just look at all of this work…

First, they cleaned saddles.

Cleaning saddles is hard.

Then, they had to rescue Brian from a creepy snake.

Because boys are silly about stuff like that.

Next, they had to properly “fit” their clean saddles.

You know, just in case the stirrup length shrunk or something.

The most time-consuming job of the day was testing the horse bedding.

This is a difficult job.

First, you must instruct little sister to fill all the holes.

Then the sawdust must be tested for proper softness…

And proper humidity…

And of course it must be fully investigated for any foreign particles.

Yep, this is real dangerous work.

Only professionals should be in charge of this important job.

Seriously…

Whew…they worked SO HARD that Brian finally allowed them a bit of a rest.

They were sweating profusely.

And that dangerous "Sawdust Management" sure gets stuff all over you.

Even the tongue. Which is not fun. Just ask Kenzie.

After all that important stuff was done, they had to do some horse training.

Horse training is delicate work.

It takes precision.

And dedication.

And patience.

Then there was grooming.

This could quite possible require a college degree.

Because Sugar has an awful lot of winter hair to remove.

And horses like Tango can get in your face.

Finally, the last and most detestable job…scooping manure.

This must be handled with extreme care.  It’s lethal stuff. Hazardous waste.

And it’s really no fun at all.

So this, in a nutshell, was the S.A.M. work day. We think it’s going to be difficult to get them back for another one. We just might be able to convince them with pizza. And brownies.

A Change Would Do You Good

Brian teases me a lot about "toughing out" this marriage of 20+ years. He jokes about having invested so much time in training me that he can't possibly switch partners now. After all, a change would just be too much work. Isn't he lovely? Bless his heart. (My friend Scott laughs when I use the phrase "bless your heart." He says it's code for "you're an idiot.")

My hubby will no doubt snicker at this post, but heregoes...

I am a bit of an obsessive person. Always have been. When I'm "in the mode," you can't divert my attention. It's a lovely thing when there's work to be done, but it's not so lovely when we're trying to have fun. And I worry. About everything. It's my nature. My darling has put up with this behavior and worked around it for years, rolling his eyes or shaking his head at my "weirdness" now and then, but mostly just shrugging his shoulders and giving in to my silly obsessions because he always knows that it is pointless to argue with me.

It pains me to admit it, but I'm not reasonable when I'm obsessive.

Then came this dream of his. These horses. This barn. This ministry. Combine those things with his love of life, love of children, and his endless silliness and laughter...my personality flaws are just no match for these things. I have been plucked up out of my box and plunked down into a new one.

Case in point: Before we built the barn and started hosting large group gatherings, I would have worried myself sick over toddlers bustling about...what if someone got hurt? I would've had organized activities for little ones...they can't get bored OR dirty! I would have driven myself crazy thinking up games for teens...they can't be shy and uncomfortable, we have to help them "break the ice!" And adults...they'll need snacks, drinks, and OH MY...what if they walk into my house and see I'm not perfect?! The thought of all of these things would have sent my life into a momentary tailspin with my husband - Mr. Even, Mr. Steady, Mr. Go-With-The-Flow - bouncing wildly like the loose caboose of a roller coaster train.

But last evening, as the glorious warm spring day was ending and the sun was moving low into the sky (Brian just LOVES to tease me when I write this way), the horses were standing at their gates curiously watching craziness unfold. Two 4-H clubs were meeting together in our barn. It was filled to the brim with children, teens, and adults. Toddlers were scurrying up and down the aisles, in and out of barn doors. Little ones were getting dirty in the sand, kicking up dust and <*gasp*> climbing on the manure pile. Teens were grouped together chatting and snapping pics with their cell phones. Adults were talking and laughing, sharing stories and experiences. Everyone was enjoying their time here, and I was looking around at the crowd, realizing that I hadn't done ANYTHING to make this stuff happen! And you know what? I LOVE having a barn full of people! It's MAYHEM, and it's...yikes! IT'S FUN!

Okay, so maybe a little bit of what Brian teases me about is true. He has changed me. And he has worked long and hard to do it. Bless his heart. ;)

The Sheltering Tree

I sit at my window this morning, contemplating the day before me and all I have to do.  I’m a bit overwhelmed by the number of tasks on my list and all of the things pressing on my mind today.  I feel beaten down and tired.  Exhausted before the day has even begun.   

Quiet and alone I sit, silently speaking to God as I stare out my window.  I ask Him to teach me something; to give me strength to get up and move.  He answers.  He opens my eyes to the beauty of nature outside my window, and He asks me to turn my attention away from myself for just a moment.  He tells me to be still and just recognize the little things happening there before me. 

At once I notice the birds, flitting from tree to tree, and then, as if on cue, a bright red cardinal perches in my favorite tree.  The bird immediately lifts his head in song.  I watch him, transfixed by the upward tilt of his head, his neck stretched back as far as it will go, and his beak pulsing as he sings.  He seems to be straining with all of his might to sing loudly, as if willing the winds to carry his song of praise to the Creator above. 

I lean forward and crack my window open to listen, and as I do, I notice a pair of squirrels darting playfully up one side of the tree and back down the other.  I smile.  It occurs to me just how important this tree’s place is in nature.  Its limbs provide perches, its leaves shelter, its trunk a mix between playground and freeway… “But what is it you are trying to teach me, God?”

As I sit, transfixed by the birds and squirrels, God begins to speak to me through that tree.  He shows me, with the eye-opening awe that only silent moments can provide, a deeper meaning and purpose of this work of art in my front yard.  Roots planted firmly in solid ground.  Trunk strong and straight, willing and able to support the weight of heavy branches.  Branches, like arms, extended toward the heavens as if heralding the Mighty One who gives it life.  Some branches, at first glance, look bent and unsure.  On closer inspection, however, it is clear that they are reaching in any way possible toward the sun.  “Whatever it takes,” they seem to say to me.  “Whatever it takes to get a glimpse of His glorious light!” 

“Are you learning something?” God asks me.  I smile. 

This beautiful old tree, planted years ago by God himself, has been a source of comfort for me since we have lived here, but I’d never quite seen it in this light before.  God reminds me that my sheltering tree has been a gift for countless creatures.  It fulfills its duties without a single complaint.  It depends on God for its existence.  It receives minerals from the soil, and rain from the clouds.  It has been blown and bent by mighty winds, and pruned by strikes of lightening.  It supports children as they climb, and rocks them as they swing.  It provides refreshing shade in the summer, and glorious color in the fall.  It serves its purpose without faltering.  It is steadfast.  Unmovable.  Tested by the elements.  Protected by God. 

And as a testament to all it has seen and known, it stands…arms stretched high, in continual praise to its Master above.

We all need sheltering trees.