Watching trees

Every day, I have been watching the trees. I have not been able to spend so much time doing this since I was a child, and I'm not sure when this kind of opportunity will come to me again, so I'm taking a job as a tree watcher very seriously. It takes time to really watch a tree. If I stay fairly still and steady in the expectation that I am going to learn something important, then I pass in and out of a special kind of awareness about the living things around me.

The maple trees whisper in the wind with a unique sweetness that is almost an ethereal version of maple syrup. A person can eat too much maple syrup, but no one can ever be drenched too deeply in the sweet peace of the maples.

The old neglected apple trees, sheltering a patch of wild strawberries, are engaged in something holy and intense with all of the other unkempt shrubs and trees around them. Lying beside them, on the edge of a wild and shady patch of our property, I feel as though I have entered somebody else's church after an unfamiliar service has already begun.

The ash trees southeast of our house are imposing in their mystery and generosity. A couple of weeks ago, when I could not sleep, I felt called to go and sit outside on our dark front step, and I was aware of a change in pressure to the southeast. Somewhat reluctantly, I heeded the call to stand under the ash trees, and after some time of waiting in the dark there, I felt as if I were standing in a shower of blessings. Again, last weekend I lay for a long time underneath those ash trees, and once more I felt something powerful and mysterious. I kept picturing that a tall, dark-haired man had given me a necklace, and each large bead was a luminous piece of sky. Even though I was having contractions, I danced slowly and briefly with that imaginary man, swinging the blanket I had been lying on as though it were a shawl. I thanked the trees, and the imaginary man, and God, and then I went inside to lie on the couch, wondering if I were being disloyal to Jesus.

Back on the couch, I worshiped and listened for Jesus, being still and steady in the expectation that I was going to learn something important. I got the message that I'm not being disloyal. I pictured Jesus smiling a smile that is the source of all light. There was so much light coming from His smile that it would be impossible to comprehend all of it, but a few tiny sparks seemed familiar to me from the time I have spent watching the trees.