For many years, a tree with an interesting history stood in our front yard. One Christmas, in the late 1960’s, my father brought it home, its root ball wrapped in burlap, its short branches sturdy and even. It was our first living Christmas tree following many years of precut needle droppers that never seemed to get quite enough water to last through the holidays.
In January, Father planted it in the front yard, near the road, where it grew with the seasons, into a handsome, well formed tree. On future holidays, it was decorated with carefully strung lines of white lights that made it shine like a beacon, for all the night travelers going up and down our hill.
I don't remember the first year a step ladder was required to string the lights through the top boughs. And, its hard to recall when a longer, extension ladder became necessary to hang the star at the top. Yet, growing as it did each year, one could almost imagine a time when the North Star would be called upon to light its highest bough.
In the early 1990’s, January brought a paralyzing ice storm to the MidOhio Valley. Throughout the eerie silence of that night, we heard ice laden wood creak and snap under the gathering cold weight.
In the morning, we found that all of the branches on the north side of the pine had broken off under the icy glaze. Now, jagged stubs protruded like boney fingers, from the places where full green boughs had been the day before.
The following winter, a neighbor, driving down the snow-slick road in front of our house, lost control and skidded squarely into the hapless pine tree, knocking it to the ground. Not easily discouraged, Mother hired men to tie it with ropes, stand it up and place it securely in a freshly dug hole where, she was confident, it would take root again. Though leaning like the Tower of Pisa, it surprised everyone but Mother, and recovered from the trauma.
Over the years, the bare side of the tree proved useful as a sheltered feeding station for birds and wildlife; and, although it grew too frail to be trimmed with lights, its "good side" remained the main source of graceful boughs used to trim the living room mantle at Christmas time.
For those of us who knew its history of unfortunate events, the pine tree served as a symbol of determination and renewed purpose.
Few of us make it through life without being scarred or challenged by trials and storms of one kind or another. What we do, in spite of the damage, is what matters. Like the pine tree, we can go on. We can enjoy life and find new purpose. We can set our roots back into the soil of life and greet each new day with hope and meaning.
