The Levi Tree

They planted the tree that year on the first day of Spring. Not as a shrine, for that would be an affront to God, but as a testimony to the love they faithfully carried for him here on earth, and would one day bring with them to Heaven. They dug a deep hole in the cool Spring soil, wove their hearts among the roots, and patted down the dark earth firmly around its trunk before joining soiled hands in grateful prayer for the love he had brought to them… 

The tree they had purchased had been closely studied for some time as they wanted it to align with their intended purpose…and along the way; they had acquired a superior layman’s knowledge of its scientific classification…from its kingdom, to its genus, its species, and its common name. But none of that really mattered…for it would always be called The Levi Tree… 

The next year, during the short, dark days of winter, a generational cold snap was forecast that would threaten the existence of such a young tree. She urgently asked him to visit the tree farm a few miles outside of town and bargain for any old-fashioned smudge pots they could spare…and he succeeded in doing so. She carefully arranged them around the tree…and on the coldest night, with the temperature hovering just above zero, she pitched her cot and sleeping bag close by to watch over it. Loving neighbors peeked through slightly-parted curtains in bewilderment…and her own children strained on tiptoes to peer over the window ledge until he scooped them up and carried them off to bed. They were soon fast asleep as he read to them the adventures of a bear in a 100-acre wood, then he returned to the window to watch over her well into the early morning hours before going out and gently carrying her inside to the warmth of their bed. For only he fully understood what the tree meant to her. And it survived… 

By the time the children were fully of age, the tree had grown into a strong and magnificent youth, a Sentinel in the neighborhood, and they, along with their friends, would clamber among its sturdy branches, delighting in bird’s nests, deserted bee hives, and caterpillars. And there were many times when they surely would have fallen in their reckless joy of climbing…but the tree would not allow such a thing to happen… 

It had become her habit after supper on Summer evenings when the weather was clement, to take her Bible outside, sit and lean against the tree and softly read out loud until twilight, and in the quiet intimacy of the gathering dusk, with Holy Words floating on an evening breeze, the tree would lean down and listen. As the light failed, she would sometimes briefly fall asleep, only to suddenly awaken and look up to see the tree had lowered its branches as though protecting her in her slumber… 

Several years later, a violent, late-summer storm slashed through the region…and when a shattering bolt of lightning struck the tree at its base;it twisted and sagged like a fighter who had absorbed a knockout blow and was precariously leaning against the ropes. And when the old arborist eased his work truck against the curb and expertly eyed the tree, his shook his head and fished the business card of a tree removal service from his wallet. But when she met him at the bottom of the steps and walked him over to the tree, she took his hand and placed it against the gaping, ugly wound and startled him by quietly telling him of her deep loss, and how the tree had helped her heal. He absently slipped the business card in his shirt pocket, excused himself, and returned to his truck where he called his wife and asked her to cancel all his appointments for the next week as he was determined to use a lifetime of hard-earned experience in a valiant effort to help her save the tree… 

The next year, on the first day of Spring, he quietly eased his work truck against the curb just before dawn when all were still asleep…and in the half-light of early morning, he saw the tree lifting its branches Heavenward…and his old eyes quickly moistened. Despite her frequent messages, he would accept no payment for his services…for he now understood, after all the years, that even the most menial of work can sometimes be a holy thing in the lives of those who desperately need it… 

The children had grown up, married, and moved away, naturally taking their grandkids with them, and their retirement lives had become a series of long-distant drives to see them, intermixed locally with an ever-shrinking group of life-long friends who had moved away for the same reason…or moved on to Heaven for others. After several months of vacillating deliberation, they made the heart-wrenching decision to sell their home and move closer to family. The day before the closing, as they were finishing a list of last-minute errands, she gently asked him if he would understand if she spent that afternoon alone in their home. As always…he did… 

And on the first day of Spring, as she crossed the threshold of the now empty house for the last time, she felt as though she held hands with the phantom of an excited, much younger woman who had done the same so many years ago. The ghosts of a thousand memories welcomed her into each room…and every surface she softly caressed whispered to her that she would always be here with them. She lingered at each window until the light began to change in the house…and she sensed that it was time to go. Time for the most difficult “good-bye”… 

It was majestic to behold. As perfect as any tree could be except for the massive scar at its base where lightning had so nearly taken its life. But the jarring imperfection only added to its allure…for when a thing or person survives the clawing of marrow from its very soul, the healing leaves behind a badge of savage beauty… 

As she sat there in the cleft that cupped her like a loving hand she would dearly miss, she knew it would provide the same comforting haven for others…and she was thankful to God that her tree would faithfully do so for generations to come. Leaning back, she looked up through the branches and watched as the brilliant Spring sunshine winked among the leaves to boldly dance with the transient shadows that wistfully clung to them until her eyes felt overwhelmed. She would rest them but for a moment. But after a very short time, she was fully unmindful of an anxious breeze leafing through her Bible like the fingers of a hungry soul searching for God…for she had fallen asleep one last time under the shade of The Levi Tree…