Poems are made by fools like me
But only God can make a tree —Joyce Kilmer
He shall be like a tree,
Planted by rivers of water,
Bringing forth his fruit in his season.—Psalm 1:3
In these quiet years I'm watching a tree grow, a river birch I planted forty years ago in our back yard. It was a sapling then.
I haven't done much for it in recent years, but it keeps on growing. It stands now in mature verdure, amidst ferns and flowers, rugged, serene, beautiful in every season of the year.
So it is with those we’ve nurtured.
Occasionally, I hear from “saplings" I’ve not seen for awhile, and discover to my great delight that they’re still walking in truth. It’s a gentle reminder that I may plant and water, but only God can make a tree.
German theologian Helmut Thielike wrote, “The man who doesn’t know how to let go, who is a stranger to quiet confident joy in him who carries out his plans without us (or in spite of us)... that man will become but a miserable creature in his old age. Can the reason why many aging people are melancholy and fearful be that for decades they have never been able to ‘let go and let God’" (The Waiting Father).
And so, though I can't care for my saplings these days I can sit still and watch them grow. There is no greater joy (3 John 1:4).
David Roper
8.4.21
