Chopping trees and Avoiding Spears

When I was a boy, perhaps 10 or so, I was outside in the backyard one day doing "yard work." Normally, at age 10, "yard work" meant jump on the trampoline and watch dad mow the lawn, and then move the trampoline when he needed to mow underneath it. "Yard work" also included watching all the fun little rivers and tributaries that the garden hose creates in the down-hill mulch when left running for hours.

On this particular day, "yard work" meant playing with a shovel. It was large shovel. And I don't remember what exactly I was doing (or supposed to be doing, rather). But we had two trees on either side of our patio. At the time, they were tiny trees, with the trunk only a few inches thick. I guess I thought it looked like an evil bad guy from playing too much make-believe, so I began whacking the tree trunk with the shovel. Just enough to shave off about a foot-long chuck of bark. Good. Bad guy dead, I probably thought. Uh oh - fun over, I next thought as I saw my dad drawing nearer. He admired my handiwork with a loud voice and angry eyes. Bad Nathan.

My dad - being the handi-man-mr-fix-any-and-every-thing that he is, wrapped the damaged tree trunk with some special Tree Bandaid stuff. Slowly, over the next few weeks, months, and years, the tree looked more and more sickly, while it's companion on the other side of the patio continued to grow strong and beautiful. Eventually, much to our dismay, the poor tree died. Finally I accepted the truth. It was cold-sapped murder.

For years, the mulch circle where the tree once stood remained vacant, as if it was the memorial grave of a dear friend. Finally my dad had the brilliant idea to transfer a small sapling from the corner of the yard to the old gravesite. I did the transplant myself, in solemn retribution for my wickedness years before. Well, it turns out the "tree" I transplanted was actually a very large, very tree-looking Weed. (See previous post for a separate discussion on this stupid Wower-Tree of a Plant). Needless to say, it has not grown at all. As you can see in the poor and depressing photograph (in grayscale, just like all the Infomercials when they show the poor old folks bending way over to pick up their rotten tomatoes from the ground, and then the infomercial switches to bright color when it shows the Topsi-Turvy that hangs plants upside down...) the poor weed-tree simply quivers under the massive beauty of the old-timer on the other side of the patio, that has continued to grow strong and beautiful all these years.

Now. The utterly unfortunate thing about all this, is that we love to eat out on the patio, usually while the sun is still out. The sun is hot. The sun is normally low on the horizon. The sun hits the patio from exactly the left upper corner. Right where the poor tree once stood. So now, when we are in desperate need of shade, all we get is - well, nothing, actually. The patio is 100% exposed to the sun all hours of the evening. However, the large beautiful tree on the other side of the patio DOES offer simply perfect shade to the grass. But we don't eat on the grass. We eat on the patio. In the sun. Because Nathan killed the tree.

And Mother Toone reminds him every meal we eat outside. "Sure wish we had some shade here...Nathan." "Boy, it really is hot out here in the sun....Nathan." "Wow what a lovely and tall weed we have growing by our patio....Nathan."

For years - literally years - I have been thinking and thinking trying to come up with some wonderful metaphor that would justify why it is BETTER to have the tree cut down. And here is my final conclusion: There is no metaphor. Life is NOT better without the tree. Nothing good has EVER come from me killing the tree. Nothing good ever WILL come of it. And herein lies the glorious lesson.

One of the finest lines in all of Life's Philosophy is that between a "Thorn in the flesh" that we were born with and a "Spear in the side" that we ourselves inflicted. Both of these are trials. And we learn from trials - yes. We learn from all trials - yes. Life is better because of trials - well....kind of. Life is better because of ALL trials - No. Just like we do not enjoy shade when we eat on our patio because I made the big mistake of killing the tree, we will sometimes to feel the repercussions of sins for a long long time.

And certainly, we can learn much from making mistakes and sinning. I know to not hit little trees with shovels. When I touch the hot stove, I will learn to not touch it again. When I go out and do (insert wicked and evil thing here) I know that next time I will definitely NOT want to do (insert same wicked and evil thing here) again.

But we cannot ever ever say that my life is better for having sinned. My life would be so much better right now had I never killed that tree in the first place. Imagine how great if I didn't have the burn mark on my hand. It would be simply wonderful if I never had created those awful memories of that time I went and (insert that same wicked and evil thing from before).

The fine line is this: If the tree would have been blown away in a tornado or it by lightning in some thunderstorm or magically vanished in some freak accident, THEN we could say it was the Will of God, and that somehow - for some reason - our life is better because of it. Trials make us stronger. We grow by enduring trials. The Great Blacksmith purifies us and makes us beautiful by casting us into the Refiner's Fire.

Trials make us stronger. Sinning makes us weaker. Even though when we finally recover from the ill-effects of our sins and end up at a point in life better than before we sinned, imagine how much BETTER off we would be, never having sinned in the first place. We can never ever say that my life is better because I sinned. If that was the case, Jesus Christ must have missed out on a lot of opportunities to grow. But He didn't. He paved the perfect path by not sinning at all.

Life is best when we endure the thorns life's trials and avoid the self-inflicting spears of sin.

Sorry, Mother, for killing your shade tree. I have learned my lesson, and now - officially - I have used it as an object lesson to teach the Gospel. But my life has NOT been blessed by that foolish shovel-chop over 10 years ago.

HOWEVER. In the other corner of the backyard are about 3 pines trees who have died ... just because. Naturally. The difference? Somehow - in some way that we may not understand until after this life - that is one of life's natural trials that actually is a blessing in disguise.

I love blessings in disguise and look for them every day. Although sinning, or the repercussion thereof, cannot be blessings and cannot make our lives better, we can still learn from our mistakes. We must do all we can to cheerfully endure the natural trials of life and do all that we can to avoid cutting down any poor, helpless trees with rusty shovels.