Stumps

Yesterday we returned from our long trek following a visit with my husband’s family. On the way home we were able to stop for the night to spend time with my husband’s grandmother. As we pulled into her driveway she pointed to her neighbor’s lawn. “See all his trees are gone?” She explained how the owner had his trees chopped down in order to sell them. He needed the money for mortgage and cutting down his trees allotted him the funds to be able to stay put. He had at least forty trees cut down.

That night as I slept, preparing for another long drive the next day I kept thinking of Grandma’s neighbor. I tossed and turned. I weighed his decision. Their neighborhood has been dubbed “the forest.” The lots are shrouded with towering pines, maples and plenty of other trees. As I thought about his bare land I felt a heavy weight press in on me. In the morning I sipped tea and stared out the window where frost would allow. My eyes glazed over when I noticed the snowy land bulleted with polka dots.

I saw stumps.

Dozens of stumps poked up from his backyard. I blew out a grieving breath for him. Why I felt such sadness over the trees confounds me. The feelings probably stirred as a result of a left over holiday thing (or a Lorax thing…but who’s to say for sure why…I just felt it).

Then, just as the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes on that one particular day, my thoughts bubbled over themselves. Ideas ballooned inside me. I understood the events of treeless neighbor man in a whole new light.

We sacrifice. We give. We make decisions moment by moment. And we do all of this to fight for what we love. We choose our priorities. Second by second we demonstrate what we value. Maybe instead of waking up with his cup of joe strolling to his windows teary-eyed and simmering with regret, maybe treeless guy next to Grandma feels something entirely opposite. He might appraise his yard freckled with brown spots like the one found on the inside pages of The Giving Tree and instead of remorse or bitterness about selling his trees, maybe the man experiences an entirely different sensation.

Gratitude.

He may no longer have his trees to shade him, to hear the birds chirp overhead in, or to watch the canopy of leaves sway and rustle in the breeze. But he still has a window to go to when he wants to take in the outdoors. He’s still warm when night temperatures drop to frigid degrees in the twenties and below. He still has a home.

Every single second we make a choice about how we receive life. We can take in our circumstances and feel them push in on us to the point of sorrow and stress or…OR…we can be thankful we are still living and go from there. There is always somewhere to go from there.

Besides, stumps make a fine place to sit and think.

What is it for you today, are you seeing life house full or stump empty?

*photos by flickr

**next week I'll share about getting to meet my critique partner and blogging friend

***this is a special Thursday post b/c I missed blogging