Plant a Tree....
"Trees are your best antiques." ~Alexander Smith
I have a friend who has served in the military and now serves in another capacity as the spouse of a service member. He has traveled, he has experienced, he has many stories to tell and now he is ready to settle down. He puts it so perfectly when he says, "I'm ready to plant a tree and watch it grow."
We have all planted our share of trees or annuals or plants and then had to uproot ourselves to never see those things again. For my family, there were the azalea bushes in North Carolina, the sunflowers in Virginia, the lilies and tulips in Germany. We had a season or two with each of those beautiful plants and then we had to leave them to the fate of whatever came behind us.
Last fall, the landscaper who cared for our community came after me as I walked our dog on the edge of the lake. He was carrying a voluntary oak tree that had started growing too close to one of the houses. It would not be good for the house if it stayed, or the tree, he told me. He asked me if I knew a place for the tree where it could be planted. I committed my father's yard for this new endeavor, and together the landscaper and myself placed the sapling into a large pot with good soil. I watered it and cared for it through the shock of being uprooted and then replanted.
On the next trip across our state we took the tree to my father's house. He planted it in his yard and cared for it through the shock of being replanted again. It thrived. As it grew it became evident that it would need more space in a different place. My father watched it and considered for months where the tree needed to be.
We recently purchased the home of our dreams, a waterfront home with a half acre of land and a pool. The yard is spectacular, with plants I still do not know the name of. When my father came to visit this last weekend he brought a housewarming gift, the growing oak tree. In a bigger pot, with beautiful branches starting to sprout, this transient tree will fit perfectly in our new yard. Having seen the house before we bought it, my dad knew that this tree belonged here.
In the coming weeks, when the time is right, we will replant the oak tree that has been uprooted more times than any tree should be. It has survived the shock of moving and thrived wherever it has been planted. We'll put it in the ground, dedicate it to all who have traveled and moved and celebrate it's resiliency. Most importantly, we'll plant a tree and watch it grow.
I have a friend who has served in the military and now serves in another capacity as the spouse of a service member. He has traveled, he has experienced, he has many stories to tell and now he is ready to settle down. He puts it so perfectly when he says, "I'm ready to plant a tree and watch it grow."
We have all planted our share of trees or annuals or plants and then had to uproot ourselves to never see those things again. For my family, there were the azalea bushes in North Carolina, the sunflowers in Virginia, the lilies and tulips in Germany. We had a season or two with each of those beautiful plants and then we had to leave them to the fate of whatever came behind us.
Last fall, the landscaper who cared for our community came after me as I walked our dog on the edge of the lake. He was carrying a voluntary oak tree that had started growing too close to one of the houses. It would not be good for the house if it stayed, or the tree, he told me. He asked me if I knew a place for the tree where it could be planted. I committed my father's yard for this new endeavor, and together the landscaper and myself placed the sapling into a large pot with good soil. I watered it and cared for it through the shock of being uprooted and then replanted.
On the next trip across our state we took the tree to my father's house. He planted it in his yard and cared for it through the shock of being replanted again. It thrived. As it grew it became evident that it would need more space in a different place. My father watched it and considered for months where the tree needed to be.
We recently purchased the home of our dreams, a waterfront home with a half acre of land and a pool. The yard is spectacular, with plants I still do not know the name of. When my father came to visit this last weekend he brought a housewarming gift, the growing oak tree. In a bigger pot, with beautiful branches starting to sprout, this transient tree will fit perfectly in our new yard. Having seen the house before we bought it, my dad knew that this tree belonged here.
In the coming weeks, when the time is right, we will replant the oak tree that has been uprooted more times than any tree should be. It has survived the shock of moving and thrived wherever it has been planted. We'll put it in the ground, dedicate it to all who have traveled and moved and celebrate it's resiliency. Most importantly, we'll plant a tree and watch it grow.
Posted by Pam at 5/17/2009 7:33 AM 
Categories: longevity, dreams, change
Tags: resilient moving military families
Categories: longevity, dreams, change
Tags: resilient moving military families
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