In the seven and a half years since that photo was taken, the grandparents are older and one has died; teenagers have become grown ups; their mom and I divorced and I no longer live in that house. Even the tree in the background of that photo is no longer there: it died from disease and I eventually cut it down.
Yesterday I planted a tree in my yard, at my new house in Michigan: a Japanese Maple. I did the planting with fertilizer and also with ritual, adding sage and echinacea to the soil; saying prayers to the four directions before and after planting; creating a circle of stones around the tree. Planting a tree is a sacred act, a way of faithfully connecting with the future.The tree is leafy, red and gorgeous, and stands a little taller than I do.
When I cut down the dead tree in Ohio I decided to keep the trunk, cutting off the limbs and sripping the bark to create a staff. The staff is curvy, strong and smooth, and stands a little taller than I do. When I make a sacred promise to myself, or perform other rituals, I use this staff, connecting me to Mother Earth.
The living tree in my yard contains the magic of growing: of taking in sunlight and water and air and turning them into beauty and life. The wooden staff in my living room contains magic as well: years of life and growth made solid, a strength and rootedness I can hold in my hand. Maybe it is just me, but I guess this is true for many of us: living things (loved ones, pets, plants in the garden) connect us with the present and point toward the future; special objects that we possess (photographs, jewelry, a piece of pottery) connect us with the past through memory and love.
PRAYER:
May trees grow and flourish in abundance.
May beauty surround us, may it be the constant background of our lives.
May we rejoice in the cycles of life: birth, growth and death–and may we be rooted in the present even as we connect to the past and the future.
May it be so.
Rev. Andrew Frantz