I have a cherry tree in my front yard that I planted shortly after moving in to this house- about ten years ago.  A few years back, the tree was badly damaged by a windstorm and became infected with fungus.  I tried cutting away the rot and using fungicides, but to no avail.  Today I chopped down my cherry tree to about a foot and a half high in the hopes that I could save the root system.

In some ways perhaps, this is a metaphor for many things in life.  There is a cycle to things, of growth and decay- though I fear that my cherry tree’s early decay was in part my fault.  Apparently, narrow crotches in fruit trees are weaker than wider ones.  Had I been more knowledgeable and careful in pruning when the tree was young, it might not have broken and become infected.

How many things in life are this way?  I can think of so very many different situations in which foreknowledge and diligence could have prevented future pain.  Like an infection, suffering creeps into our lives, growing along the cracks that form when tragedy strikes.  When a tree (or one’s life) is healthy, the infection is quickly defeated and healing can begin.  When it is weakened, poorly planned, full of unwanted growth- the damage can be almost total.  This is especially true when we are unwilling to prune, sometimes severely.

I find that in my own life, I have often planned my own affairs poorly.  Similarly, I have often overextended myself, committing to some task or service without figuring out how to recoup the energy I’m expending.  Such combinations of poor planning and overexertion weakened my body, mind, and spirit making me more susceptible to disease.  One such example was my time on the local school committee.

I did not figure out how to effectively balance the tremendous physical, emotional, and monetary costs of that public service with my resources.  As a result, I experienced an increased level of financial, physiological, and psychological stress leading to shrinking reserves on all three fronts.

So I pruned it.  I had an opportunity this year to run again, unopposed, and chose to stand aside.  I still feel the call of it sometimes, but the cost to my life was too great.

 

Like my cherry tree, though, I did not simply throw it all away.  There are roots there, roots that may be healthy and strong so that one day, when my reserves are rebuilt and my life more stable and vigorous, perhaps I can begin again- drawing upon the roots I’ve grown for support.

I grafted on tiny twig onto the stump hoping that it will be able to draw upon the strength of those roots to blossom again.  Even if the graft fails, this stump may sprout, giving my cherry tree a new lease on life and giving me another change to prune properly this time.