The Parable of A Walnut Tree

It was 1954 and I was 11years old when Hurricane Hazel came sweeping through Medford, NJ. It took out our family’s much beloved English walnut tree in the side yard and stretched it across Main Street, blocking traffic. Neighbors came from all over the neighborhood and beyond to help cut it up, and to my recollection, those were the days long before chain saws were a common tool.  

It was a very dramatic scene seeing all those men working so diligently at a job that had very little rewards for anybody other than doing something together with a complete sense of comradeship. And when the cutting and chopping were done, my dad insisted that the leftover stump be set upright in place. Would it live? Only time would tell.

We were heartbroken because of all the memories that tree held in its branches. Each year my parents would gather up the walnuts after they had fallen, and put them in a cardboard box, and store them up in the attic to dry. The aroma the walnuts emitted as they “aged” was amazing! Open the attic door and the scent came wafting down the steps, enticing you to just go up and spend some time.

Besides the walnuts, it had also been the center of family life. My sister and her friends would sit under it and talk teenage talk. My dad hung up a swing for me on one of its branches. There was an array of crocuses that came up under it every spring. Friends and neighbors visited with my parents beneath it, sitting in our lawn furniture --a metal glider and chairs for those of you who know what they were like. 

Here's the thing: other people might have decided to remove the stump, thinking of what use was it? The tree's no longer there--take it out and fill in the hole and move on. But, not my dad. The next spring he planted a rock garden around it in loving respect for what the tree had meant to all of us.

And yes, it continued to live with little branches and leaves. It reminds me of that text from Isaiah: "A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots..." [Isaiah 11:1 NRSV]

I guess you could say about that, that there is strength in our memories to help us smoothly transition into the next phase of life, as long as we have faith in even the littlest glimmer of hope. Tend that hope like a rock garden surrounding the best roots and branches of our past.

Just a thought.