Writing these tornado-related columns has become like eating potato chips, I’m afraid. I just can’t seem to stop. So, with apologies, here I go again …
You’ve probably heard the classic joke about why old people hesitate to buy green bananas. My personal twist on that joke isn’t about bananas, but about planting baby trees.
I’ve been told that future generations will rise up and call me blessed if I fill our tornado-ravaged front acres with little pine seedlings planted in long, tidy rows. I did the math, however, and it’s unlikely I’d still be kickin’ when those trees are big enough to look halfway good. Call me selfish, but I don’t want to look at relative ugliness for the rest of my days out here. I’ve decided I want a quicker fix.
As one forestry consultant said to me, “You don’t want a forestry management plan, you want landscaping.” Yep, I unapologetically do.
My husband and I have had some vigorous and lively debates over all this. Oh yes, we have. We’ve built two houses, raised two kids, and endured all kinds of stressful life stuff in our 44 years of marriage, but NEVER have we argued as much as we have over how to fix what the tornado broke around here.
In fact, a single friend was planning to come over the other day, but before she did, she texted and asked, “Is there peace once again in Crumland?” She’d gotten caught in the crossfire of a tree “discussion” during her previous visit, and while no objects were thrown and no actual yelling occurred, there was definitely a tense vibe in the air for a few minutes. She probably cancelled all her online dating accounts when she got home.
How to make our property look good again without going bankrupt is perplexing, to say the least. A minute of tornado mayhem has resulted in weeks and weeks of decisions I feel ill-prepared to make. Beyond simply loving big trees and disliking ugly landscapes, what I know about forestry and land restoration could pretty much fit in a thimble.
I am, however, trying to do my homework and after reading up on the growth cycle of pine trees, I quickly concluded that when the day comes that Joe and I must sell this place because we no longer have the oomph to chug around on our tractor, our property’s “curb appeal”—if that’s what it’s called when you’re miles from the nearest curb—will probably be enhanced by pretty pastures, not a few acres of adolescent pines.
For the record, our donkey, Boo, heartily supports my conclusion. So does my wise husband, finally, as he’s once again realized that agreeing with his beloved wife is the quickest, surest way to restore both beauty and peace to Crumland.
Don’t misunderstand me, though. Even if I don’t leave behind a few more pine trees, I do care very much about future generations. In fact, the greatest passion of my life is to invest in the lives of those coming behind me and to help equip and inspire them to faithfully love and follow Jesus Christ.
For my husband and I, that has meant being involved and invested in a church where we have many opportunities to know, encourage, teach and counsel younger believers. It often takes more energy than I think I have, but that kind of stretching has grown my faith in countless ways.
Planting trees is optional, but cultivating faith in the lives of others isn’t for those who claim to be Christians. In fact, it’s at the heart of Jesus’ command to “go and make disciples” (Matthew 28:19-20).
Intentionally or not, we’re all planting something in the lives of those around us. The question is, what are we planting?