The Tree You Don’t See
I live on and manage a five-acre parcel of family property handed down through multiple generations. Near the front of the property stands a large “live oak” tree which is over 75 years old now. My grandmother planted it on the occasion of her youngest son’s birth, then protected and nurtured this tree over the course of her remaining years. This front tree is strikingly beautiful as you pull into the driveway anytime of the year. It also renders a lot of fun for my grandchildren, who enjoy playing on the tire and rope swings placed on the tree’s grand limbs decades ago by my father. This old tree seems to hold a special place in the hearts of our entire family.
Near the back of the property used to be another oak tree. As a young man, I watched that tree grow larger over the course of years from my grandmother’s kitchen window. Not far from the roots of that tree was a small creek and a patch of woods. I recall sitting in the shade of that tree often to take a brief break, while working in my grandfather’s garden, which used to stretch out over the small hill between that tree’s location and my grandparent’s house.
During my military service and travels of days gone by, I often found myself thinking about both of these trees. I cherished memories of playing in the sand under the front tree as a small boy, swinging my own children there in later times, and picnics before deployments or on other special days. I associated the back tree with being a special resting place, which eventually led to a desire of one day being buried under the back tree, had it survived to fulfill such wishes. A few times during conflicts on foreign soil, I recall praying that God would let me enjoy playing and resting under those trees again. I seldom thought of our old home place without savoring the memories of both trees.
As things turned out, I was able to return home to see those trees again. However, the back tree suffered natural damage over the years and had to be removed. A building has now been built close to where that tree stood and a porch covering extends out over the site where the tree once provided shade. One day, while sitting on the porch, I realized that I was resting exactly where I had sat so many times before under that tree, just a short distance from the creek and its sound. God had not only fulfilled my request to see and rest under the old trees again, He had provided a particular place for me to rest and enjoy watching gorgeous sunsets from a special spot. Because of this divine realization, it’s the tree you don’t see - the back tree - that means more to me.
Christmas in the twenty-first century is built on the recollection of two trees. The tree that is often in the forefront of people’s minds in December is the Christmas Tree, made popular by German Christians in the 16th century. This tree, often placed in the front windows of many homes, gains its notoriety from what happened on another tree over two thousand years ago. The other tree, often relegated to the background during the Christmas season, was planted on Calvary in the form of a cross and became an instrument of death for crucifying Jesus, only thirty- three years after his birth. The tree you don’t see highlighted in the forefront at Christmas time is the tree that means more to me, because without Calvary’s tree the Christmas tree would have no spiritual significance. As you look at Christmas trees this year and appreciate all that is associated with them, never forget the value and meaning of the tree you don’t see!
- Philip “Endel” Lee Jr., RDML (ret.), CHC, USN
Originally published in the Military Officers Association of America (MOAA) Newsletter, Dec. 2023
