Plans We Can’t See

Thriving in spite of setbacks.

There’s a tree in our yard that I would love to hear tell stories. I’m sure that sounds insane, but my mind seems to run a near-endless cartoon with accompanying music, so talking trees are not exactly out of the norm for me.

Our tree has become loving known as The Play Tree for our family.

As a large, stately tree, it holds three swings and provides much needed shade from Spring through Fall for climbing, pretending, exploring and relationship building. Only a short time ago – about 5 years to be exact – it was known only by the cattle that took shelter in its shade. Prior to that, the history is unknown.

It stands in our yard now as though it was made to create a pretty bend in our driveway and a safe play area that is just the right distance from the house to allow children to explore their independence. As you look at it approaching the entrance of our home, it appears nearly as perfect and wise as trees seen in children’s stories. I would love to ask, “What was it like when you first popped your leaves through the dirt? How did the land lay and were there other trees anywhere near you?” Since it likely sprouted when the US was just getting its feet on the ground, that part of the story would definitely be a neat one to learn. However, as we’ve settled in and grown more familiar with our Play Tree, the parts I really want to hear are those that shaped and formed it into the tree we see today.

If you look closely or pay attention during the winter when its leaves are stripped bare, you will notice that one entire side of our tree has no limbs except for those at the very top. It is not a readily obvious flaw and could be easily concealed in photos if care was taken to do so. But the angle from home, the angle from which those who love it see it most often, gives hints of a beautiful story that – if trees had feelings – would assuredly involve pain, loss, missed opportunities, less-than-ideal-circumstances and so much more.

We are like The Play Tree.

Certain angles and filters may be able to make us look flawless and if we keep others at an arm’s length they won’t be able to see our warts, wrinkles and scars. However, we won’t get to experience and share the really beautiful parts of life that way. Instead of letting the lie that we are too messed up to be of any use continue to poison our minds, today let’s take a minute to learn from The Play Tree.

• The storms or circumstances that caused a bare spot to the east, allowed more nutrients to the limbs elsewhere on its trunk. Those limbs are now sturdy enough to provide shade and support to a growing family. How have your less-than moments in life led to strength in other areas and how can those strengths be used to love and serve others?

• Having a bare spot made room for two little walnut tree friends. If there had been branches allowed to grow where it is now bare, there would have been too much shade for other trees to later sprout and grow. Are you using the results from previous pain to create room for friendships that might not have otherwise been possible?

• In spite of the challenges The Play Tree has faced, it continues to gloriously fulfill its purpose and provide space for happy memories. Birds and bugs have a home. We enjoy cleaner air. Hours of shaded fun and imagination are enjoyed. How about you? Even as you walkout consequences of bad decisions made on your own or at the hand of others, you can choose to live out your purpose and contribute to the joyful moments in life.

We each have scars and parts that we are less comfortable sharing with the world. Just like the tree, it is ok to put your best face forward when first meeting others. However, if we are to experience the fullness of life we were created to enjoy, we must look to use each lesson as an opportunity to positively shape our character and share joy.

written by Kelli Keller

The Play Tree