Be Like A Tree

In our backyard, we have a beautiful silver maple tree. The tree stands over 80 feet tall, with a lovely canopy of branches and leaves. She’s approximately 40 years old. The canopy sways in the wind or stands stoically, depending on the weather conditions. The roots run in many directions - some run deep, others skimming the surface. Her presence is authentic, well-known, and respected.

I look at this tree every morning as I drink my coffee and look out our kitchen window.  I watch her with deep concern when we have stormy weather. I anticipate the dropping of her leaves in the fall, signaling her need to rest and reset. When the weather warms in the spring, I feel her newness emerge with the first sign of buds. I love this tree. This tree frames our backyard perfectly and provides me with a sense of peace and tranquility. She is a constant reminder of strength, resilience, and endurance. 

This tree is a protector. She shades the grass just enough to keep it lush and green during the hot summer. She provides a relaxed, shady place for the dog to rest. She canvases the backyard so that it’s as if she is providing the entire house with a protective embrace. Saying to us, “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” It feels as if nothing can get past her. Nothing can hurt her. She’s a semblance of grace and bravery.

She reminds me of the tree in Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree. In the book, the tree sheltered, nurtured and stood tall and strong for the boy, who later became a man. The tree gave and gave what it had to offer—apples, shade, comfort, and wisdom. The tree was grounded, stoic, and selfless. 

In The Giving Tree, the tree also grew old and tired. Just as I do when life becomes too much. I give more than my bandwidth allows in times of turbulence. Somehow, I manage to give and give and remain highly functional. Until my tank runs empty. Then, I hit what I call the Wall of Resentment. I hit the wall and feel trapped. Everything makes me angry.  Water spots on a clean mirror can put me into orbit. My family watches me with wary eyes. When I feel this way, I look at our tree and wonder how she withstands so much and is always strong despite the circumstances. 

Our tree represents what I want to be in my life. I want to be the giver of great love, and my love holds no bounds. I want to provide, protect, comfort, and share my wisdom. I want to be grounded, sturdy, and unbreakable. I want to remain authentic to myself. I want to care for myself while I care for others. I want to honor my needs during chaotic and trying times just as our maple tree does - reserving just enough for herself to have the energy to provide for others. I want to be gracefully resilient.

Despite my age, life experiences, time dedicated to healing, and determination to live my best life, some people and circumstances rattle me. I can feel small and unvalued in their presence or by their actions. Some people can also spark fear within me through their unpredictability. They challenge my bravery and being.  When this happens, I wonder if this is how the maple tree feels during a storm. Does she feel weak? Does she feel threatened? Does she feel brave? Does she feel like who she is is enough? Is what she needs to do to protect and prevail enough? These are all unnerving feelings I don’t want to invite into my life. But they show up uninvited and occasionally set up camp.  

I want to stand solid and grounded like the beautiful silver maple in our backyard. I want my roots to run deep and my presence to be known. I want to feel respected for my authenticity. I want to capture the wisdom of my years just like the tree has and share it. I want to stand in my knowledge and strength regardless of life’s conditions or who I engage with. And when it’s the perfect storm, I want to be feared. I want others to recognize the force I am and the lengths I will go to to protect those I love. 

I also want to be like the canopy of the tree with its beautiful branches and leaves—flexible and fluid depending on the conditions of life or the weather. I want to have grace. If I stumble or fall, I know I can start again. I know I’m doing my best, just as our beautiful maple does. 

Our maple tree prepares for renewal in the spring and each season. She knows that regardless of the pleasant or harsh seasons, she will have rest and renewal opportunities. She knows she may need to fight harder to prepare in some years—harsh winters, hot summers, and limited rainfall. She has the wisdom to know she will persevere. She also has the grace to see that she and Mother Nature have done their best. She has patience. She trusts the process.

She knows she does not stand alone. She has homeowners that appreciate her presence, her longevity, strength, and beauty. We want to preserve what she gives. We thin the canopy to keep our maple tree solid and able to stand the test of time. We don’t want her to fall or experience damage in a bad storm.

I realize I need to do the same for myself. I need to care for myself emotionally, physically, and mentally. I want to weather the storms life presents. I want to be able to withstand extreme conditions. I also want to bask in the beautiful gifts of life. I want to value myself and stand strong. I can do this for myself most of the time, but there are other times when I need to lean on those who love me. I need help with this. I want to be strong and stoic, sometimes to my detriment. As human beings, we aren’t meant to weather life’s storms alone. We need to lean in and let others help us lighten our load. 

I am currently at a place where I need to stand strong and still be flexible and fluid. I need the ability to pivot quickly. I must provide safety, shelter, and comfort to those I love. I’ve fought hard before, but this fight is at a new intensity. This is hard stuff. I’m constantly trying to anticipate the next curve in the road while traveling without a map or any road signs. Fortunately, I have my daily reminder - the beautiful maple tree. She reminds me that I am like her. I am grounded. I am rooted. I have wisdom. I have emotional, mental, and physical strength. I persevere. I could use a little refinement in the grace department, but I will get there. I trust the process.