Returning to My Roots, Literarily

When I was a freshman in college, an English instructor affirmed I had promising writing ability and urged me to nurture it. Because of her encouragement, I changed my major to English, which seemed more appropriate for an aspiring writer.

As the academic year ended, however, I began reconsidering. Not whether to become a writer, but whether I should major in English. I remember thinking, “I don’t want to spend my life writing about flowers and trees.” So I decided to major in journalism, which meant transferring to another institution. From my very first class in journalism it was vocational love at first sight.

The other day, however, it struck me that even though I’m a journalist, flowers and trees still provide me occasional subject matter. But it’s not because I’m fixated on petals and pansies. Nearly 100 years ago, journalist and poet Joyce Kilmer (a guy, by the way), wrote a poem called “Trees,” in which he states, “I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree…. Poems are made by fools like me, but only God can make a tree.”

I’m not much of a poet, but I concur with Kilmer’s literary sense that trees and flowers, arrayed in countless colors, shapes and designs, are glorious examples of God’s creative hand. So from time to time I write about them – and photograph them – conveying by word and image a reflection of His creation.

In Romans 1:20 it says, “For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities – his eternal power and divine nature – have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.”

Just as artists deserve praise for beautiful paintings, and composers merit commendation for stirring concertos, we should worship and glorify the God of all eternity for His handiwork. When I write about it, or capture it photographically, I believe I’m doing just that.

When the Bough Breaks

The proverbial question asks, “If a tree falls in the forest but no one is there to hear, does it make noise?” I’m know it does, based on an experience my wife and I had recently.

We were watching a favorite TV show, trees far from our minds, when a thunderous rumble shook our house. At first I thought it was the neighbors next door, but it sounded so close I went to investigate.

I discovered a giant limb, more than eight inches in diameter, had broken off a large tree in our backyard, collecting another huge branch in its descent. The second branch peeled bark off the tree nearly to the ground as it fell. Both branches came to rest on some power and cable lines, but the lines were of “tree strength,” so we didn’t lose electricity or – egad! – our cable.

Thankfully, the limbs were on the side of the tree away from our house or the result would have been calamitous. The heavy limbs would have crashed through the roof and who knows what kind of damage would have resulted. So praise the Lord for growing the branches on the safest side of the tree!

There would have been other consequences: Working out of my home, I would have had to open a branch office. Even worse, despite my aversion to risk-taking, I would have been forced to go out on a limb.

In all seriousness, we’re thankful to God for preventing what could have been a very serious situation. “The trees of the Lord are well-watered, the cedars of Lebanon that he planted…. May the glory of the Lord endure forever; may the Lord rejoice in his works – he who looks at the earth, and it trembles, who touches the mountains, and they smoke” (Psalm 104:16,31-32).