Monday, July 22, 2013

Missing the Tree: Even Small Change can be Hard

About an hour ago, after I had completed my morning meditation, I heard voices outside my living room window and looked up to see workmen trimming the trees of my backdoor neighbor.  As I watched, I quickly realized that they weren't just there to trim the trees; they were actually removing the redbud tree that grows right outside my neighbor's porch.  It blocks my view of her porch.  She usually has bird feeders hanging from it, including a hummingbird feeder, and a bird bath sits under it.  Squirrels run up and down the tree all day, and birds often perch on its limbs before dropping down for a bite to eat or soaring off to another neighborhood tree. 

Now it's gone.  Empty space greets my eyes every time I look up.  I had not realized how often my gaze rests on that tree and its inhabitants.  It is the first thing I see outside my window.  And now, I can't seem to stop looking for it.  If you've ever had a tooth removed, then you know what I mean - it's like not being able to stop my tongue from looking for the missing tooth.  I just keep looking up and seeing my neighbor's porch.  No tree.

Of course there are many other trees out the same window if I look in a different direction.  Birds and squirrels play in those trees as well.  It's not like all the green has gone away.  And yet I feel sad, missing a tree that I've always taken for granted, the tree with the heart shaped leaves and the sweet purple flowers in spring.  The tree that made my living room feel very private even with the blinds open.  It wasn't a huge tree, but it played an important role in the green space behind my house.

Maybe the absence of the tree will allow more light in and help the grass to grow in our common area.  Maybe some of my plants in the backyard will grow more now that there is more light.  Maybe I will come to appreciate the open space that has been created.  For now, though, I miss the tree.  Even small change can be hard.  Something to remember when I find myself asking other people to change.  Even small change involves loss and possibly grief - not large sobbing, soul-shaking grief, but small grief that's easy to ignore so it gets lodged somewhere with all the other unacknowledged small griefs until it comes out sideways somewhere down the road. 

So, before I go charging off to the next task, pulling myself away so that I don't have to keep facing the empty space in my backyard, I will take a moment to mourn the redbud tree, a living thing that needed to be cut down because its branches could cause damage to the roof of a house, a part of God's creation that brought me joy even though I couldn't have named that until today, a green and growing element of my life that has now died.  Good-bye sweet redbud tree.  I will miss you.  Thank you for all the pleasure you brought to me and this little corner of the world.

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