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.

Keeper of the Creatures

Lindsay has always been a lover of animals. My first realization of this was when she was a toddler. I remember one early morning as we sat on the front porch swing of our home on a quiet small-town street, a beautiful cat came wandering our way, jumped up to the porch, and sat. Swishing her beautiful long gray tail, she looked straight at Lindsay as if to say “good morning.” Swigging on her ever-present pacifier, Lindsay pointed at the cat, looked up at me with wide eyes, and cooed a soft “oooooooh!” then scrambled down to greet the newcomer. I don’t know how long she sat next to that cat, petting and cooing, but I do remember how upset she was when the cat decided it was time to go home! From that moment on, there have always been animals, animals, animals in and around our home. Cats, dogs, rabbits…she was never at a loss for animal friends. When we moved to the farm, Lindsay was thrilled to have a swampy area to slog around in. In addition to the dogs and horses, she maintained countless wet and dry aquariums full of hundreds of toads and spring peepers, thousands of tadpoles, and even a few salamanders, blue tail skinks, tree frogs, and baby turtles. She proudly designed and prominently displayed a wooden sign in the garage that designated her space as the “Treaty Line Wildlife Rescue.” She pored over books of uncommon pets, fed and exercised her toads daily, and filled notebooks with new milestones that each one met. She was obsessed with her little friends!

In the blink of an eye, that little animal lover grew up, put her empty aquariums in storage, and quit baling swamp water for tadpoles (although every now and then you can find her slogging in the swamp just to have a look around!). I began to miss those daily reports of how well Hopper-the-Toad was recovering from what seemed to be a sore leg muscle, or the number of tadpoles that were safely tucked away in our warm garage, their little delicate lives saved from that unexpected late spring freeze. Lindsay’s safe little world was frequently shaken by some small animal drama, but she was always there to pick up the pieces, fix what was broken, and turn them back out to their habitat to enjoy life.

I was reminded of all of this earlier this week when Lindsay came home from work. I could tell the moment she walked through the door that she was angry. Her jaw set with determination, she muttered a hello through clenched teeth, and my question of “How was your day?” was met with a huff and flaming eyes. “Do you remember Noble? You know, the horse at work that I fell in love with? The one Kim sold to another trainer a few weeks ago?” Yes, I remembered. Lindsay had told us many things about this wonderful horse that had quickly stolen her heart, and she was sad to see him leave the barn where she works. “Well, Kim visited that trainer today and saw that Noble was being mistreated, so she loaded him up and brought him back. Mom, you should SEE how ABUSED he is! He is skin and bones! His mouth is bloody! That horrible trainer nearly ruined him! I am SO MAD!” And there it was – the look of that little girl – protector of all things animal – her safe little world shaken again; this time by a tale a lot harder to swallow than a toad’s pulled leg muscle. I was heart broken too, grieved by the fact that my now-grown daughter had witnessed the all-too-common reality of a show-horse’s life. It’s a harsh and cruel thing in most cases.

A few days have passed since that initial blow for Lindsay, and time has tempered that first burst of anger that coursed through her veins, but I know, without asking or being told, that when Lindsay goes back to work today, Noble will get the treatment of a lifetime! He will be coddled and loved. His wounds will be soothed with gentle hands, his ears will be pricked by a cooing tongue, and his spirit will be calmed by a warm heart. I know this because that’s what God created Lindsay to be…a keeper of His animals…a defender of the defenseless. (And God help that trainer if he crosses paths with Lindsay anytime soon!)

“Be thou diligent to know the state of thy flocks, and look well to thy herds.” Proverbs 27: 23

A Legacy of Love

The girls and I just returned from a wonderful two-day trip to Nashville, Indiana. We travelled with those we have come to affectionately call "The Bane Ladies."

My mom's family is very close-knit. My grandmother, with her unquestioning faith in the Lord and unconditional love for her 14 children, created an amazing circle of admiration -- a legacy of love. Growing up, this large famly was the center of my world. I was blessed to be raised alongside numerous aunts, uncles, and cousins who doubled as additional sets of parents and siblings, and as a child I thought we would all remain close throughout our adult lives. As tends to be the case, however, life-changes had a way of making alternative plans for us, and as the cousins married and began raising families of their own, our limited time together caused us to drift apart.

Thankfully, some years back, my mother's younger sisters decided to organize a retreat for the ladies of the family. They invited all females connected to the Bane family by blood or marriage to join them for a slumber party, and chose a wonderful bed and breakfast inn in Nashville, Indiana, as the meeting spot. Those of us who were longing for reconnection jumped at the chance! That first trip was nothing less than amazing - we shopped, talked, laughed, played games, acted silly, and swooned over delicious desserts. We enjoyed it so much we decided to go back again...and again...and AGAIN!

Our circle of "Bane Ladies" has changed since that first year. I'll never forget the last year Aunt Nancy went with us. She had lost her hair and her stamina, but not her spirit. We intentionally slowed our pace of walking from shop to shop, and we landed back at the inn early when it was apparent she was tiring. Munching on desserts, we listened to her giggle as we placed bets on what color her hair would be when it grew back.

Sadly, the next fall found our group a little smaller. The thought of going without her was difficult, and the stay was certainly bittersweet as we reminisced about our time on earth with her, and shared how hard it was without her. It was a time of healing for us all. The circle was smaller, yes, but it was tighter...and the hugs lingered a little longer in an effort to hold on to that fleeting moment of breathlessness.

The circle was extended this year as my three daughters joined us in Nashville for the first time. As a grown woman, I realize how richly I have been blessed with the wise counsel of these amazing ladies and the legacy of love that was built to support me - the legacy they recieved from their mother. It was incredibly touching to watch my daughters join the circle and to see the legacy begin its descent to the next generation.

I don't think it a coincidence that I found a small trinket at a shop in Nashville that spoke directly to my heart that first year without Aunt Nancy. It says "Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away." It still speaks expressly to me today. That the Lord has blessed me with such wonderful family - it takes my breath away. That my life's journey has been gifted with love, laughter and tears - it takes my breath away. That my daughters have now joined this circle - it takes my breath away.

Through this legacy of love I've been taught how to extend my circle to include others in need of breathless moments in their lives, and I'm thankful...so thankful!