The Tree Trimmer

We all were moving the pedals on our bikes and looking out the window. It was Friday morning spin, what has become one of my regular classes. The cycling room has floor to ceiling windows looking out into the parking lot in front of the gym. I find welcome distraction from the strenuous work of the class watching the coming and goings of cars, people, and delivery trucks. 

That day, though, they had a section of the parking lot blocked, and the street in front of the building closed off. A boom lift was now driving on the street, stopping at the first palm tree in the row. Ohh---we were in for some real entertainment today! I thought, as all the pieces came together.

The tree trimmer went to work, removing the lower branches at the top of the long, skinny trunk. We all watched as each large branch fell to the ground, my mind adding a thud. The tree trimmer kept going around the tree and cut off the hanging pods that dangled down from the branches with their weight. He kept on trimming while the class kept spinning, and I was amazed at how much he was taking off. Will there be any branches left?

He was finished by the end of the class, the top looking like a pineapple. The pile of debris underneath the tree was pretty impressive. The rest of the crew worked on cleaning up the mess, while the man drove the boom to the next tree in line to get its haircut. 

Tree trimming is something that seems to capture everyone's attention. We look on, amazed at the transformation happening in front of our eyes. I know one little boy that wouldn't sleep at naptime because of the excitement going on across the street one afternoon about 8 years ago.

What a sweetie, gosh I wish I could spend an afternoon with him again 💙

We had a big tree in front of our house trimmed in Colorado, and I know the neighbors enjoyed watching the thinning out of the tree by the tree man as much as I did that morning! 

My first tendency is to feel bad for the tree for some reason. Maybe you're like me and can imagine the tree being hurt by each cut, being sad at the loss of its branches as the tree trimmer takes off one after another. There's a relief when the process is over, and also some sadness for the tree. 

But we know it's good for the tree, in the long run. Proper maintenance will make it healthier and have a longer life. Even though it seems harsh or extreme, the tree will actually be stronger because of its trimming than if it was left to grow wild.

Now there has already been a lot said about the parallels between garden/tree work and the pruning or trimming God does in our lives. We find encouragement in knowing that the pruning He does, though painful, will make us healthier and better off in the long run just like trees and plants. Even though we feel stripped after the process and maybe more than a little sad, if we are patient, we'll actually be flourishing once again, even more so than before. 

I thought of that, as the branches fell from the palm tree as I spun on my bike. But as I watched the man work on the tree, I shifted my focus to him. I wonder if he realizes how many people are watching him work. Questioning his every cut, feeling sorry for the tree. Does he wish he could explain to us bystanders why he's treating this tree in this particular way? I feel like I'd want to reassure people watching critically how much better off the tree will be. 

Or maybe he's confident in his work. His knowledge of trees and what is best for them guides him as he tackles the job at hand. He knows how to work with palm trees, and the best time to do their trimming. If he had done this right before our inferno season (summer), the tree might not have been strong enough to survive. Or if this was a young tree, it might not handle the loss of branches as well as this mature one. He knows that now was the perfect time to take off what looked to me like half of this tree's branches, and he did it.

I'm sure the trimming of palm trees differs from the trimming of other kids of trees. The next day, this man might trim an oak or evergreen and approach the job totally differently. Maybe he takes less branches, leaves the seed pods, or cuts from a different angle. 

The tree trimmer has to trust his knowledge and wisdom to handle each job accordingly with confidence.

Maybe you see where my mind went next. How wonderful it is that God doesn't let bystanders get in the way of His work tending to us, His trees. What peace is found in trusting that God is confident in His plan, knows His wisdom is sound, and can see to the future all the good that will come from His trimming and pruning. Our whining or the naysayers watching do not deter Him from what He knows is the right thing to do. Praise God!

Because like the tree trimmer, God knows his trees. He doesn't treat the palm trees the same as the maple trees either. He knows what is best for me, might not have the same positive effect in you. He knows what season is best to do His pruning work, mindful of what you will have to handle in the next season. What He allows in my life now would have wrecked me as a young Christian, so He held off. His wisdom is perfect, and so is His work.

How amazing our God is! What a relief to trust in Him.

I'm reminding myself of this as I wade deeper into the work of trying to get my book published. I can trust in His plan. He knows just what time is perfect for things to work out. When I reach dead ends or He turns me around, I can rest assured that He knows what's best for me and it will all come together for my good according to His plan, not mine. I just have to keep doing my work and let Him do His. 

Which is hard for me, I like to know the plan, have direction, work my way to the next goal. Thank goodness God doesn't let my whining change his perfect plan. I might miss out on something better if I settled for what I wanted right away. I can look back at so many examples of that already in my life. Why do I need so many reminders, how is it I forget so quickly? I'm thankful He sends the reminders, though, even if it's when I least expect it, like at cycling class.

The joy I was filling up with from remembering how well He's taken care of me throughout our crazy life gave me energy to get through the class. I wiped off my bike and left with a smile. Maybe I should do this more often. Reflect on God and who He is, not myself so much. We'd all be better served to take our focus off ourselves, as the tree, and onto God, the tree trimmer. How much more joy we'd feel if we spent our time worshiping and praising Him instead of questioning and whining. Simply trust in Him, spread the branches we have, and soak up the dazzling sun.

Maybe this perspective on the tree trimmer isn't as hot a take as I think it is. But at least for me, it was a fresh perspective on an analogy I thought I'd already learned. It "hit different" last week, as the kids would say, while I watched the palm branches fall. I left the gym drenched in sweat as usual, but also drenched in encouragement. Not because of who I am, but because of who God is.

Eras

I lined up the last nail along the outline and hammered it in. Tearing the paper off from around the nails, the state emerged. Long and narrow, but with more bumps and curves than the last one of these I made, I noted. That was a while ago, though, and I had to remember how the pattern of stringing the white thread between the nails went. I got the hang of it pretty quickly, and California really stood out now on the freshly stained board when I was finished. 

It was done! Making our next state plaque had been on my to-do list for a while. But I had to start from scratch with this one and kept putting it off. Finally, 9 months after our move, California joined the group with the others. 

Deciding where to hang the states had already been done, so the last thing to figure out was how to arrange them. An odd number, and a mix of vertical and horizontal boards, I had to think a minute. I'm sure a more insightful designer may have found a more creative arrangement, but I settled on what I thought looked best and made the most sense.  

As I hung each board, I had a different feeling with each one. 

Iowa, where Josh and I both were born and raise, and where we met and married. 

Minnesota, our first home together and where we lived the longest--over 10 years. It's where the first of these plaques were made at a friend's craft party! 

So many memories and experiences in the space of that little heart on the bottom right side of Minnesota. 

I came to the state as a new wife, became a mother of two, endured a heartbreaking tragedy, and navigated through grief. All with the friendship and support of an amazing community. When we left almost six years ago, I couldn't imagine a life away from our world in Austin, Minnesota.

Our Illinois home, established in the fall of 2018, was just the start of our adventures as a family of three. I didn't know what awaited us as I strung the next state and added it to the other two on the wall of our new dining room. 

We transitioned to life in the suburbs of Chicago, and also life away from Austin. We learned a lot about ourselves and each other. I quickly was drawn to two great friends, which helped the adjustment. It was only 14 months in that we heard about the job in Colorado. Before we left, COVID hit, and in the middle of shelter-in-place warnings and toilet paper shortages, our home was packed up again and we headed west.

Colorado. It wasn't long before we all were in love with Colorado. The weather, the scenery, and the people. Molly helped me with this plaque, a COVID activity as we settled in.

Family on my side lived in the area, which was so nice. I became more outdoorsy than I ever imagined I'd be, hiking in the mountains that were only 45 minutes from our house. Molly really grew up a lot in the 3 1/2 years we spent in Colorado. I wrote my book in the basement of our split-level home. Josh got a break from plant life and enjoyed a more flexible schedule--including some days working from home. We again made life-long friends. The longer we spent in Colorado, the harder we knew it would be to leave... 

But the time came, and ready or not, the Beckers were on our next adventure! We traveled west again and unpacked our stuff for the third time in five years here in California. By then, we knew the drill. Yet, it had been long enough that it took a little to remember how it all worked--like making this state plaque. 

Since I had to start from scratch this time, as I mentioned, I decided to make a few extras, so I have them in the future. Three more boards are cut, sanded, stained, stacked in the closet. Ready to join the group when their time comes.

What states will be hammered onto the front of them? When will each be established, how long will we have in between?

It's kind of fun to have these physical representations of the different chapters of my life. Eras, if you will. As I hung each up, I felt each one's vibe. The heartland. Our first home. The big city. A rocky mountain retreat. And now, the central valley. 

I smile thinking of the joy in each place. The memories that we treasure because we said yes and made the moves. I also remember, though, the tough times. The big fights, the sad goodbyes. As I've wrote about so many times, the good and the bad fit together, and make each experience whole. Even if we wish it was all good.

As each state went up in session last month, I had a striking visual of how each chapter built on itself in our story. How Iowa will always be where we're from, even if I call Minnesota home just as often. How we wouldn't have made it to Colorado, if it wasn't for Chicago. 

California, we're already almost a year in. This era has been a lot of fun. For a Midwest family to see palm trees every day, look down rows and rows of orchards instead of corn, and have multiple national parks and the ocean within 3 hours of our house--it's more than we could have dreamed of! 

Now I know that few people can relate specifically to this story. Establishing new homes isn't something everyone choses to do, for one reason or another. Moving around the country is hard, and not for the faint of heart! 

But if you think about it, I'm sure you can relate to the theme of this story. You can recall seasons of life and the abrupt, or subtle, shifts into the next one. The life event, the addition of a new family member, the change in job, or the loss of someone close to you. There are good and bad parts of each season, some things you wish never happened and others you wish never ended. But like my state secession, each chapter built upon the last to write the story of your life. 

I took the time to think about this, as I finally finished up this project. I've had many seasons of life that made me who I am today. Awesome times and ugly times. Triumphs and failures. But I wouldn't change any, even if I could. I need them all to draw from and to be inspired by. And some day, they'll all come together. We'll get the answers we yearn for, and the reunions we dream of. 

We'll see in perfect detail how every era worked together to bring us exactly where we were supposed to be. My last state plaque here will be the end of one big era, but the beginning of eternity. 

It was perfect timing for reflection as the summer came to an end, and a new school year started. Molly's back in her Middle School Era, after re-visiting elementary school last year. She's figuring herself out as a new young woman, and it's exciting and profound to watch. It's scary too, I'm almost a mom of a teenager! A new era for sure. 

I know there'll be good and bad parts as we live in this current season. Things I can't wait to change and things I wish stayed the same forever. I'm trying my best to be present for all of it. Bringing with me all my memories and experiences from each of those states on my wall that I walk past each day...