A friend was picking me up to go out to breakfast, and I waited on the deck. Oddly, I do not spend much time sitting there, even though it is a lovely view, with comfortable chairs. The birds were playful, the stand of trees was waving in the breeze, and the air was that perfect sweet spot between the bake of summer
and the baked goods of fall.
I wished I could remember how tall the oak tree was when we moved in, but I was distracted my the pending birth of twins and the five children who already filled our home, to notice something as extraneous as a landscape.
I suppose there are ways to measure the height of these majestic hardwoods, without laboriously climbing it and tossing down a rope. My uneducated guess was that it is a hundred and fifty
feet to the apex.
It occurred to my meandering brain that the tree is, technically, mine. Ours, really, as both John's and my names are on the deed. It is not specifically mentioned in the mortgage, but then probably shrubbery is too transient to be included in an official document.
How is it that I own a tree? I certainly did nothing to encourage its growth, either by pruning or watering. Yet, unassisted by anyone, the oak has
made an impressive climb to the sky over the past twenty-three years.
My body has done its own share of growing. Not height, thankfully, as five foot seven suits me just fine. But the continuous replenishment of skin cells, endless travel of blood through my veins, and even the hair that covers my otherwise bald head are all blessings. Plus they are mine.
Says who? Native Americans have other traditions when it comes to ownership
of land and forests. My octogenarian friends seem less inclined to claim proprietary rights on limbs and bones, as they prepare for an upgrade. Some already have replacement parts.
Yet, no one bats an eye when I claim that this body is mine. This oak is mine.
Maybe ownership belongs to the Creator. Yet, there seems to be little effort to remind anyone of that. I enjoy the liberty of autonomy, as if I built both trunks with my own
cleverness.
"The goal of Divine Providence is for us to have a clearer sense of our identity and yet to be more clearly aware that we belong to the Lord."
Divine Providence 45, Emanuel Swedenborg
