Yearly Archives: 2011

Seven Birthday Trees

Posted on by

On several occasions, we Nymans have been criticized for having such a big family. “Seven kids? What a giant environmental footprint you’re leaving.”

I have a friend who was walking into the Field Museum with her seven kids when she was approached by a stranger. “Are these all yours?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Then you’re breathing more than your fair share of the earth’s oxygen.”

It was rude and inaccurate, spoken like the disgruntled person she probably was, but it gave me an idea. Each of our children should plant a tree. It would give off oxygen and take in some of the carbon dioxide they breathed out. It would also provide a snap answer to a criticism, should another come.

Even though every human being would need to plant an entire acre of trees to bring balance to the O2-CO2 ratio, we could at least participate symbolically. We decided to let each of our kids plant a tree in the yard just as they were leaving home for college or other pursuits at 18.

Nelson was the first and chose a weeping willow. He knew they were fast-growing and loved the sweeping branches. His willow sapling had a trunk no thicker than his finger but true to its reputation, grew tall quickly. When we moved recently, it had grown into a healthy specimen of 50 feet, its “weeping” branches long and strong.

Two years later, Lars chose a sour-cherry tree, because he loved cherry pie. His tree also started small, and although it yielded a small cherry crop each year, the birds always got them before we did. Several years in, it began to suffer and eventually died. We quickly replaced it with a same-size, same-kind of tree, and it’s been growing well since then.

Linnea’s tree is a resurrection story. Because she loved apples, she chose a golden delicious tree, but our high-strung dog Penny spent hours gnawing its branches until only a stump remained. Surprisingly, after Penny died, the stump began growing again, eventually flourishing and producing apples.

Klaus chose a peach tree. The first spring it produced literally hundreds of peaches, too great a burden for such a little tree. We plucked off buckets of ping-pong sized fruit, leaving about 20 peaches to grow to full size. Even then, the little branches needed wooden supports, but the peaches were big and juicy.

Hans admired Nelson’s weeping willow and followed suit. We planted it in a sloppy downpour the morning he left for his Tennessee university, and after a minor set-back, his tree has grown quickly and flourished.

Louisa chose a decorative crab with giant white blossoms. Shaped like an umbrella with its branches cascading like falling water, it found a home in the center of the front yard where I enjoyed its beauty from the kitchen sink. Sadly, the week after we moved, someone dug it up one night and stole it. Only the hole was left, a bizarre end to a short story.

Birgitta chose a mighty oak no taller than she was but with the potential to outlast all the others. The day we dug its hole, we’d gotten two feet deep when we hit a rock. In a half-acre yard, we’d chosen the exact spot where a three-foot wide boulder was hiding. Digging a second hole, we set her oak in full sun, and it’s gaining steady growth every year.

Each tree choice reflects the personality of its buyer, and I hope as the years pass and the trees continue to grow, our kids will give God the credit. I also hope they’ll appreciate the variety in his creation and will point to him as they “show off” their trees one future day.

But we’ll have to come up with a better ending for Louisa’s story.

“The seeds of good deeds become a tree of life.” (Proverbs 11:30a)

Fountain of Youth

Posted on by

By now I’m used to goodbyes. When children grow into adults and move away, parents are waving them off continually. Today was a waving day as Hans, Katy, Nicholas, Evelyn and Thomas boarded an American Airlines jet for England. They were anxious to get home, and the rest of us are ready to get back to work and study.

With three car seats, a double stroller, five massive bags, unnumbered carry-ons and eight people, we needed two vehicles to get to the airport. Part of that was three drivers, two to circle while the third assisted Hans and Katy through check-in. The babies slept through the two hour ride, waking as if cued by an alarm as we pulled up to the airport curb.

 

Watching them roll/push/haul toward the big double doors, two babies in the stroller and one strapped to Hans’ back, I marveled at their efficiency in getting to this point without a glitch. Katy was so well organized this morning we had time for a cup of tea as we waited for the appointed moment to step out the door.

I’m thankful to God for these children and grandchildren, each one custom-designed by the Creator to accomplish the divine purposes for which they were born. I’m the privileged bystander, looking on and lending a hand along the way. Spending time with them is of great delight in the autumn of my life.

But there’s one chronic stress in our situation. All of my grandchildren live far from me. That means it’s double-or-nothing when we’re together. Either they have to move in with me or I with them, which can put a strain on young and old alike.

One friend told me that after she stayed in her daughter’s home with her two grands, back home she needed a week’s recuperation for each week spent with them. Last time she visited for three weeks so it was another three before she felt ready to put anything on her at-home calendar. I chuckled when she said that, but I didn’t have grandchildren then.

Now I do, and I understand.

As we stepped back in the door at home tonight, the first thing I did was pause at the baby toy bin sitting ready for a lift back to the basement. With a twang of sadness I wondered when my grandbabies would next handle those toys. Maybe so much time will pass before they return, they’ll have grown beyond them and the answer is “never”.

The second thing I did was sit down to think about that, and before I knew it, my head was hanging, and I was asleep.

Let’s see. The kids were here for five weeks. That means I’ll be back to normal by the end of February…. except that I’ll be staying with my Florida grandchildren to celebrate Micah’s first birthday well before then.

Maybe instead of counting weeks, I should just acquiesce to Mom’s point of view: “Spend as much time as you can with children; it’ll add decades to your life.”

 “The love of the Lord remains forever with those who fear him. His salvation extends to the children’s children.” (Psalm 103:17)

Hanging On

Posted on by

 

Nate wanted to go to Harvard University. He made his decision while still in junior high and worked diligently throughout high school, always reaching for his dream.

As a senior he applied early to Harvard, wanting to be in the first wave of acceptance letters, but had failed to consider one important factor. While he was the managing editor of the school newspaper, he’d written a series of harsh articles about two of the school’s teachers. In his opinion, they were more interested in coaching sports than teaching history, and he expounded on this in the newspaper.

Of course the teachers were insulted and let Nate know it. What he’d forgotten was his need for university recommendations from these same teachers, since he would be a history major. One of them had bluntly told Nate, “I’ll see to it you never get into Harvard.”

That might have been a frustrated high school student’s inflated opinion of the conversation, but the bottom line was a rejection letter from Harvard. Nate’s hopes were dashed, and receiving acceptances from several other excellent universities didn’t ease his pain.

Dotted throughout our 40 years together were a handful of references to the Harvard rejection story and especially the teacher who threatened him. It was difficult for Nate to let go, because of the hateful way this person had acted, although his overblown response to Nate’s articles seemed to actually vindicate what had been written about him.

None of us completely get our way as we go through life. After a crushing disappointment, it’s what we do next that determines whether or not we’ll be able to distance ourselves from the event. We can either mull it over again and again, increasing our resentment, or we can tell God, “You deal with it, because I can’t.”

I don’t think Nate ever experienced complete freedom from the malice of that history teacher. The teacher probably thought very little about Nate after he graduated, but Nate often thought about him. Turning it over to God would have been beneficial.

Last Sunday our pastor quoted Martin Luther who said, “There are only two days on my calendar. Today and that day,” meaning the day we meet our Maker. The hurtful events of yesterday shouldn’t be allowed to bind us today. It’s our choice, though. We can drag all the unfair stuff along with us, risking ruining today, or we can say no to that, with God’s help.

One day, after Nate and I had been married nearly a year, he told me the Harvard rejection story. He’d graduated with a strong GPA from Northwestern University and was about to graduate honorably from the University of Illinois Law School, so the Harvard rejection didn’t matter much to me. But as he talked, I could sense he was still hurting.

But we were newlyweds, and our “today” was lots of fun, so I tried to encourage him back into it. “If you’d gone to Harvard, we wouldn’t have met!”

I watched his pain melt, and he said, “Oh, I would have come back to the Midwest to get you.”

We only have today (which we know), and that day (which we don’t know).

“…of that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father alone.” (Matthew 24:36)