Smiling At A Tree
by Joyce Sutten
Eighty-two-year-old Eloise sits in her nursing home room with Stage Six Alzheimer’s. She remembers her name but frequently doesn’t recognize her granddaughter. She is sweet and kind to all the nurses and has a special impact on them, although they routinely appear to her as strangers in her room every morning. It is easy for them to be patient with her, compared to other Alzheimer’s patients who sometimes act stubborn and cantankerous. In spite of losing her memory and most of her personal possessions; in spite of spending most of her time alone; she is happy because she looks outside her window and sees a tree.
Until a few years ago, Eloise was an accomplished artist. Her paintings adorn the home of her daughter. Most are landscapes, and one of her specialties was painting trees.
Once she had an extraordinary gift; now she is handed a crayon and draws lines like a two-year-old—lines that possibly represent tree trunks and branches.
I share in her appreciation of trees. Growing up on a farm on Pleasant Hill, in upstate New York, I spent a good deal of time climbing trees and wandering among them, admiring the artistry of God. In the pasture across the road from our home, there was one especially majestic tree. One day my father pointed out to me that it had perfect symmetry because of the root system beneath the surface of the earth. If there had been an impediment to the development of the roots, it would have been reflected in the mirror image visible above the ground. The tree was beautiful because it had a well-functioning root system.
I have often meditated on trees and thought about how they parallel our lives. We go through cycles much like the seasons—bright new beginnings, like the pale green buds of springtime; flourishing times, like the lush and gorgeous full-of-life trees of summer; resplendent times, like trees flamboyant with color in the fall; and bleak times, like the stark beauty of seemingly lifeless branches shrouded by the sparkling snow of winter.
We too need an invisible system of roots in the spiritual realm. Our connection with God is what feeds us and helps us to bear fruit in our lives. He nurtures us while we’re green and growing and fruitful, helps us yield to the loss of our leaves in the fall, and keeps us alive within through seemingly endless winters, so we’ll bring forth the miracle of new buds with the coming of spring. When our spirits are firmly rooted in God and we are supported by Him and nourished by His Word, it shows in the branches of our lives.
So I can understand Eloise, who has lived a full, rich, loving, fruitful life, close to God and firmly connected to Him through her personal relationship with Jesus. As her memories fade and communication skills fail, her deeply rooted love and faith remain. I believe that is why she is content to sit at her window, smiling at a tree. In Heaven she will have her whole life ahead of her.
<>< Thank you to Tommy's Window for sharing this with me today ><>
by Joyce Sutten
Eighty-two-year-old Eloise sits in her nursing home room with Stage Six Alzheimer’s. She remembers her name but frequently doesn’t recognize her granddaughter. She is sweet and kind to all the nurses and has a special impact on them, although they routinely appear to her as strangers in her room every morning. It is easy for them to be patient with her, compared to other Alzheimer’s patients who sometimes act stubborn and cantankerous. In spite of losing her memory and most of her personal possessions; in spite of spending most of her time alone; she is happy because she looks outside her window and sees a tree.
Until a few years ago, Eloise was an accomplished artist. Her paintings adorn the home of her daughter. Most are landscapes, and one of her specialties was painting trees.
Once she had an extraordinary gift; now she is handed a crayon and draws lines like a two-year-old—lines that possibly represent tree trunks and branches.
I share in her appreciation of trees. Growing up on a farm on Pleasant Hill, in upstate New York, I spent a good deal of time climbing trees and wandering among them, admiring the artistry of God. In the pasture across the road from our home, there was one especially majestic tree. One day my father pointed out to me that it had perfect symmetry because of the root system beneath the surface of the earth. If there had been an impediment to the development of the roots, it would have been reflected in the mirror image visible above the ground. The tree was beautiful because it had a well-functioning root system.
I have often meditated on trees and thought about how they parallel our lives. We go through cycles much like the seasons—bright new beginnings, like the pale green buds of springtime; flourishing times, like the lush and gorgeous full-of-life trees of summer; resplendent times, like trees flamboyant with color in the fall; and bleak times, like the stark beauty of seemingly lifeless branches shrouded by the sparkling snow of winter.
We too need an invisible system of roots in the spiritual realm. Our connection with God is what feeds us and helps us to bear fruit in our lives. He nurtures us while we’re green and growing and fruitful, helps us yield to the loss of our leaves in the fall, and keeps us alive within through seemingly endless winters, so we’ll bring forth the miracle of new buds with the coming of spring. When our spirits are firmly rooted in God and we are supported by Him and nourished by His Word, it shows in the branches of our lives.
So I can understand Eloise, who has lived a full, rich, loving, fruitful life, close to God and firmly connected to Him through her personal relationship with Jesus. As her memories fade and communication skills fail, her deeply rooted love and faith remain. I believe that is why she is content to sit at her window, smiling at a tree. In Heaven she will have her whole life ahead of her.
<>< Thank you to Tommy's Window for sharing this with me today ><>
