A Tree on Memory Lane

I recently finished reading the book The God of the Garden by Andrew Peterson. If you’re looking for a book that will make you rethink the world you live in and remind you of the wonders of God, I highly recommend reading this book. This is one of those rare books where I wanted more when I came to the end. I finished the book a few weeks ago, and I’m still thinking about it. It’s that good.

His book is more of a memoir that focuses on trees and how they hold a place in many of his memories. It reminds the reader that when God created earth and everything within it, it was created perfectly and God said it was “good.” In addition it reminded me of Romans 8:22, where Paul writes that creation and the children of God groan as we wait for the LORD’s return. Really, I’m not doing the book any justice. But this post isn’t so much about his book.

As Peterson says in the Afterword, trees help us remember our past “unlocking memories long since forgotten,” (p. 198). To test his theory, I started thinking about trees. He was right. One tree in particular brought back a flood of memories. It was a crabapple tree at my grandparents’ home in Kansas City. Short and somewhat stout, this tree provided hours of entertainment and wonder for me. I would climb it and watch the ants crawl around the limbs while trying not to skin my knee on the rough bark. During the summer months, rotting crabapples covered the ground beneath the tree and provided us kids with small weapons of torture as we would throw them at each other. As I think about that tree, I’m reminded of my grandparents’ mint green home and the rest of the backyard. My cousins and I would play back there quite a bit. Sometimes we would stand by the gate hoping to see a train in the far distance. When a train would go by, we would stand there and wait for the red caboose. I’m not sure why the red caboose was so exciting to see, but that’s what we did. I remember my grandma sunbathing in her two piece bathing suit, sitting in her plastic lounge chair (you know the one that would always fold in on you and pinch your fingers as you tried to adjust it) as my cousins and I would swim in the plastic pool my grandparents bought for us. My grandpa also taught me how to cast a reel in that backyard, though I wasn’t into fishing (placing wriggling worms on a hook grossed me out, though now I wish it hadn’t).

I remember their neighbor, a kind, older woman who would talk with us kids and make us pinky rings from the tendrils of the vine growing through the chain link fence. Back then, almost everyone had a chain link fence that was maybe four feet high, not like the privacy fences most of us have today. As I sit here looking at my privacy fence, I realize a sense of community has been lost. On one hand I understand the need for the privacy fences, but on the other, it is a bit sad. No longer do neighbors catch up with each other while working in the yard. Instead, we quickly wave at them as we back out of our driveways. For many of us (not all of us), there’s no connection with our neighbors. I still remember how sad I was to hear that my grandma’s neighbor had passed away of cancer. I mourned her loss because I had connected with her, even as a young girl making pinky rings from vines.

Holidays and birthdays would mean large family gatherings at the mint green house. The house seemed small when it was full of people. My cousins and I claimed our own space by venturing downstairs to the right side of the basement (not the left side though because it was dark and scary, if not haunted). We’d sit at the bar, eat our food, play games and pretend to be the bartender (it was the 70s and early 80s, what can I say, other than no alcohol was involved).

Not all gatherings were so happy though. Just like other families, ours experienced death, divorces, and families moving away (including mine). I remember one gathering during the holidays. Though it was New Year’s Eve, we weren’t there to celebrate. Sadly, my beloved great aunt, my grandma’s sister, had passed away two days before. Being only almost 10, I didn’t grasp all that was going on at the time. I just knew that night I had been able to stay up and watch the countdown to the new year. As I jumped and yelled “Happy New Year!” I noticed my grandma crying as she hugged my mom. I rarely saw my grandma cry. My happiness for a new year changed to grief as I mourned the loss of my great aunt and felt sadness for my grandma.

One day, when I was about 15 years old, my grandparents announced they were selling their home and moving to a smaller city a couple of hours away. My parents were happy because they would be closer to us. I’m pretty sure I cried. Though my family and I had moved around quite a bit, I always felt at home and somehow rooted at the mint green house. I knew everything would change with this move. And, like life, it did. We still had gatherings at their new home, but they were smaller. The new home also didn’t have a basement – only a crawl space. I also don’t remember any trees. I do remember my grandpa growing tomato plants though only to have my dog eat them when we visited. He was so mad.

I imagine, since God created the family, that family is important to Him as well. When Jesus taught the disciples (and us) how to pray, He started the prayer with “Our Father” (Matthew 6). The story of the prodigal son shows a father who is happy to see his long lost repentant son (again reflecting God’s love for us). And, as if we needed more proof, once we are born again, we are children of God. There’s a sense of connection and belonging when referring to family. There’s also a closeness. The LORD wants that with us – a close relationship and a connection to Him that will bring us only good things, such as peace and joy.

I recognize that some may not have such happy memories of family gathering together. Some families are toxic or abusive, reminding us again of the brokenness of this world. But we can still create our own family and connections with those around us – our friends, our neighbors, our church family, and so on. Being connected with others gives us a sense of community and of belonging to each other.

So, just by thinking about that crabapple tree, I’m reminded of how important family, connection, and community are to me. Those times shaped me into who I am today. I miss those days, especially as I’ve grown older and my family gatherings have grown smaller. So much has changed now. Both of my grandparents have passed as well as my mom. Several other family members have also either passed or moved away (including me and my family). It saddens me that my kids won’t really know the joy of regularly gathering with numerous cousins, aunts, uncles, and other family members. I long for those days, particularly around the holidays. But I’m hopeful knowing that someday we will have a large gathering in Heaven where we’ll see our Heavenly Father face-to-face. We will no longer groan as everything will be perfect again, just as God created it. And I imagine our Heavenly Father and Creator will look at it and call it “good.”