A Tale of Three Trees
Patsy Kuipers, Guest Writer
TODAY’S TREASURE
Your Father knows what you need before you ask Him (Matthew 6:8).
The year after we moved to Georgia, my husband Ray and I began a tradition we called “walking the property.” Let me dispel any notion you may have about us owning a vast estate. No, our property, situated in a typical suburban housing development outside Atlanta, measures approximately 1/3 of an acre.
As I related in Monday’s devotional “Count It All Joy,” Ray had a horticulture degree and chose many unique plants for our yard in the nearly-five years we lived there together. Although I received a degree in Fashion Merchandising, I loved plants and being outside, and spending time with Ray. Consequently, I looked forward to our rambles and Ray’s lessons. Warmth and copious hints of spring accompanied the evening of April 16, 1997. Ray dropped Jessie and Mary, our 7-and-10-year-old daughters, off at church for their mid-week children’s activities. When he returned, we started our evening stroll at the left front corner of our house, leisurely made our way through the woods, up the other side, and back to the driveway.
Ray stopped multiple times along our route. He pointed out plants of interest, mentioned specific landscaping plans, and commented on the health of things he’d planted in the much-amended Georgia clay. We paused by a grove of three bald cypress trees. All these years later, I don’t remember how tall the juvenile trees were, probably not much taller than Ray, but I distinctly remember his comments:
“These are some of my favorite trees. They’re interesting because they lose their needles.”
I didn’t know it would be the last time we’d walk the property. But God did.
Three nights later, my young daughters and I received the devastating news: Ray, a mere 39 years old, had a fatal heart attack at work. He wouldn’t be coming home. Ever.
Over two decades have passed since that last stroll and the unthinkable loss. I focused on raising my daughters, finished a 30-year career at a large corporation, and welcomed three grandchildren. Along the way, gardening became my therapy, a connection to Ray, and a connection to a loving Father Who has reminded me of spiritual truths, softened my sorrows, and given me innumerable indications of His presence as I’ve worked in my yard.
He also graciously gifted me with the opportunity to go back to school to study horticulture after my corporate job was eliminated. In my Woody ID class, I learned there are very few conifers that lose their needles: dawn redwood, several larch species, and bald cypress, confirmation of Ray’s long-ago statement.
LIFE-GIVING ENCOURAGEMENT
The small specimens Ray planted now tower high above the back corner of my house. Each fall their needles create a brilliant color display before they let go, drift to the ground, and blanket the bed beneath their intertwined branches. I’ve often thought about Ray’s comments and how special the trees are.
Five years ago, I noticed several seedlings peeking through the mantle of fallen needles. Upon closer inspection, I realized they weren’t pesky pine seedlings that tend to pop up everywhere. They were baby bald cypresses! I contacted a friend well-versed in all things coniferous. His comment upon hearing the news: “Those must be happy trees to be reproducing like that.”
I beamed, adding to myself, “Well-loved, too.”
I dug several of the seedlings and potted them in individual containers. In the seasons since, I watered, watched, and worried them along, hoping at least three of them – one for each grandchild – would make it. And make it they did. Last November, we moved them to Mary and son-in-law Justin’s house. With the help of a friend, the children planted the offspring of their grandfather’s favorite conifers.
The minds-eye images of that gorgeous fall afternoon – cloudless blue sky, warm-for-November breeze, dirty hands, and delighted laughter - were underscored by a snippet of lyrics from the hymn, “Day by Day,” whose first stanza reads as follows:
Day by day and with each passing moment,
Strength I find to meet my trials here;
Trusting in my Father’s wise bestowment,
I’ve no cause for worry or for fear.
He whose heart is kind beyond all measure
Gives unto each day what He deems best –
Lovingly, its part of pain and pleasure,
Mingling toil with peace and rest.
Oh, how I wish Ray was here to be Grandpa Kuipers to our grandchildren. I mourn the fact he isn’t. But at 8, 6, and 4, Joshua, Lyla, and Emma are old enough to grasp the concept of having a grandfather in heaven. I speak about him often, recounting his love of plants and people and his faith.
Life can be so hard. After all, we’re not Home yet. But God generously mixes in good gifts along the way to soften the blows and smooth the sharp edges – family and friends, plants and promises, conversations and conifers – all part of His beneficial plan for this grateful daughter (Jeremiah 29:11-13).
When I took my last stroll with Ray, I didn’t know the day would come when I’d be blessed to have three grandchildren, much less that we’d get to plant progenies of the very trees Ray singled out that night. But God did.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Patsy Kuipers often refers to herself as “Gardening Grammie,” a title that encompasses two of her favorite pastimes. Widowed at age 38, she was blessed to be gainfully employed all the years she spent raising two daughters on her own. When her job was eliminated several years ago, she returned to school to study horticulture, a passion born of caring for the garden her husband left as part of his legacy. Patsy is Grammie to three small but enthusiastic garden helpers. She enjoys teaching them about plants and the One who created them. Patsy started her blog, Back 2 the Garden (patsykuipers.com), to tell others of God’s great love and faithfulness. She is a member of Grace Covenant Church in Dallas, GA where she serves on the Women’s Ministry Committee and leads women’s Bible studies.
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Originally published Friday, 21 October 2022.
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