A brisk wind whipped through three maple trees, planted around the old church by a Sunday School class generations ago. Then the church was new. Proud was the congregation who had built it with their bare hands and sweat. But there were no trees on the land and the church looked bare. So Mrs. Swickey's primary group hiked to a nearby woods and dug up three sturdy young maples.
With much pageantry, the saplings were planted -- the entire congregation turned out that bright Sunday morning for the dedication of the trees. The minister prayed that the trees would take root and grow healthy and strong.
And the Lord smiled down, and it was so.
Year after year new growth was added and soon the trees were taller than the building itself. Generations enjoyed their shade. Outside church suppers saw fellowship under their spreading branches. Couples married in the church began their new lives at receptions held beneath them. In summer, the incessant chatter of birds and squirrels among the leaves welcomed worshipers to the church.
The years passed and the trees grew even more, as did the congregation of the little church. Finally, it became clear that a new building was needed -- the original wooden one was much too small. A plot of land was donated in town and the building committee decided to build a fine new brick church there. "How I wish we could take our trees with us," one woman sighed. "They're much too big," the chairman answered sadly.
Then one day, during one of the last services in the old church, one of the children cried out, "Hey! Our trees have babies." Some of the adults came running and, sure enough, beneath each tree was a sapling that somehow had escaped the whirring blades of the lawn mower. The adults looked at each other and smiled. Loving, tenderly, they dug up each of the saplings and replanted it in a large pot.
"What'cha going to do?" the children asked.
The chairman of the building committee, who was kneeling on the ground in his best Sunday-go-to-meetin' suit with his hands grimy from soil, smiled and said, "We are going to take the children of our trees and plant them around the new building. In the meantime, their parents will stay here and protect the old church."
And so it was. The young trees were installed around the new church, grew strong, and prospered just like their parents.
The old church was eventually abandoned and hardly anyone went there anymore. Occasionally an elderly man or woman visited the empty church with their grandchildren, telling them stories about the Sundays when it was filled with the faithful. And they would tell them about the three maple trees, too -- still there -- and how they protected and sheltered the church and its members for many, many years. And they would add, when the task of the trees was over for the old generation, it was the children of the maples that continued to shelter and shade the new....
Just the way God intended for all living things in the world that He made.
Lo, children are an heritage of the LORD: and the fruit of the womb is his reward. (Psalm 127:3)
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Copyright 2002 by Ed Price.