Walking in a forest is a source of calm for me. The state park where our family camped for many summers is a home to hemlocks that were standing when Johnny Appleseed passed through with seeds in a cloth bag. The chickadees and chipmunks are reborn each spring but the trunks just keep sending out deeper roots. Woods create a safe haven for the undergrowth and the
creatures who nest in their branches. Even passers through like me are blessed by their cool shade.
This week I befriended a couple who are old growth. Their marriage has weathered the storms of suicide, and job loss, and children who thrash and run from their protective shelter. There are reasons enough for falling down and letting life break you into compost.
But their roots run deep.
On
every wall of their home there are quotes from scripture, and in their actions I saw those ideals like a tree trunk beneath the leaves.
Their granddaughter arrived the day after we did and her eyes were as bright as a bluebird. Her laughter was like music as she was lifted from one pair of eager arms to the next. John and I sang a song after dinner one night and she listened with her eyes, her smile, her whole body. I could not not look at
her.
When their son took his life last April their extended family asked to plant a tree in his memory. It will be a Canadian maple to honor their North American heritage. The tree will flash like flame each October and robins will embellish its glory.
Being in their presence reminded me of walking in an old growth forest. I know that their marriage is stronger than the winds that pound against
it.
Because their roots run deep.
