Grace and Falling Trees

Hi Friends,

What a week around here! We have over 30 giant (over 150' tall) trees down all over the property, with corresponding smashed up fences, our well is covered in downed trees, holes in houses, a couple tent-buildings torn up and upended, etc. No loss of life or injuries to animals or humans though (yay - thank you, God, for that!). Just tons of property damage.

As I was surveying the extensive damage (with the power out), I thought about the last time we had a downed tree (just one that time!) and the lessons God taught me.

Those lessons are needed again now, especially when we've had so much more damage! I thought you might appreciate them as well, so here ya go (all pictures are from our current storm damage ... as I work from the local coffee lounge because we're on day 5 of our power outage, sigh):

The Grace of Falling Trees

            Morning mist gathered on the window of my home office. I sipped my hot lemon water and thought about kidney stones and Type 1 diabetes. I thought about allergies and infections, broken lives, broken families, strained relationships. I pondered lost jobs and clients who refused to pay what they owe, stacks of bills and relatives hovering at death’s door. I thought about all the things that either I or someone I loved was facing at that moment, things that were completely out of my control.

            Lord, where are you ...

            I waited in the silence.

            I drank my water. I watched the droplets of mist just beginning to evaporate. Then I sighed and began to work on my next book.

            A minute passed, then two, then ten.

            The air rumbled. The house jolted, shook, shuddered.

            My water spilled over my desk. I leapt up. The house tumbled to a stop. I caught my breath. An earthquake? But the shaking had not come from the ground below. Instead, it came from all around me.

            I ran through my bedroom toward the front door. I glanced right. No light came through the windows on either side of my bed. Instead a flurry of green and brown blocked the panes.

            I raced outside. Sunlight splashed into my eyes, sunlight that was usually shaded by the giant cypress that grew in our front yard.

            The tree was gone.

            I turned toward it. And that’s when I saw a miracle.

            The tree, over fifty feet tall with a truck three feet in diameter, had fallen precisely in the narrow, less-than-ten-foot opening between our house and garage. I walked over to it and looked down the long length of the trunk. Had it fallen a little to the left, our newly-built garage would have been crushed. If it had gone just a bit to the right, our house would have been smashed, and me with it. But there it lay, exactly between, with just a few branches on each roof.

            Grandpa came out of his house next door and joined me. He looked at the tree. I looked at him. “Thank goodness the kids weren’t out here playing. This is just the time you usually come outside to play with them.”

            He glanced at me. “They asked to come out. I told them to wait ten minutes. I wasn’t ready yet.”

            The tree had fallen in that ten minutes. I swallowed. Hard.

            Then we went to inspect the damage. As we got closer, I could see that the tree had broken the roof of the tiny shed that covered our hot water heater and air conditioning unit. The unit had a small dent in the top, but the hot water heater was untouched. But that wasn’t all. Branches lay on each side of the delicate piping that rose along the house walls and traveled across to the garage. Not a single pipe was broken, even though several branches speared through the shed’s roof like swords through paper.

            Grandpa shook his head. “This tree couldn’t have landed more perfectly to cause the least damage, even if we had guided it ourselves.” Grandpa squatted down under the branches held up by the shed’s roof and examined the hot water heater. “The pilot light isn’t even out.” He glanced up at me.

            I glanced up at the sky.

            I wasn’t squashed. The kids weren’t dead. No one was hurt, not even the house or garage. And there wasn’t water spurting everywhere. A centimeter in any direction, ten minutes later ... There was only one Person I knew who could place a falling tree so perfectly in time and space.

            Thank you, Lord.

            I could almost sense him smile.

            I had been pondering all the hard things in life over which I had no control. I had felt the weight of all those things in my soul. But with one falling tree, God had reminded me that the One who could place a giant cypress so carefully between my house and garage would also handle all the other “falling trees” that concerned me.

            Jesus said, “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care...So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. (Matthew 10:29,31 NIV)

            When things seem to be falling apart, when I’m afraid, when I’m in danger, God is guiding everything that’s coming down around me. I may shudder and shake, but God is in control.

            So even when giant trees fall and my whole house shudders, every branch, every leaf, every breath, every life, is guided by the hands of the God who loves me. So even in the scariest moments, I don’t need to be afraid.