I remember a song from the old “Up With People” days about an oak tree. I won't try to sing it for you here, but the gist of the song is about how an old oak tree was planted long ago by people who knew they would not see the tree today. “Trees grew slower then, back when they used the horse and plow. Now we're afraid it's getting late, we don't know how to wait, we've got to have everything now. But in another hundred years, when someone else is living here. They will reap what we sow and I hope we don't throw it away,” so the song goes. I think of that song many times whenever I see the big oak trees around our community. I'm sure some of these trees can easily be a couple hundred years old. If trees could talk, I wonder what kinds of stories they could tell us. I wonder if any of us would take the time to listen to them.
I remember a pair of oak trees outside the back door of my grandparent's house just outside Greenville. When I was little (many years ago), the trees were huge. If there were three or four of me, we still would not be able to reach around the base of one of those trees. I think about everything those trees have experienced. Not just a goofy little boy, running around with a pair of cap pistols strapped around his waist, saving the great plains of Greenville from cattle rustlers, bank robbers, bullies and bad guys all around. I think about the real human history those trees have lived through. The things we read about in history books today, those trees were present for. How many prayers were uttered underneath those branches for a loved one far away, separated by miles and a war a half a world away?
What kind of trees are we planting today? Are we taking the time to plant oak trees that will shelter young lovers on a picnic underneath its branches? Will those young lovers carve initials in its side? Will those same young lovers look for those initials on that tree when they are older? What kind of legacy are we leaving behind, even though we will never see it with our own eyes? I sure do hope we leave something substantial behind for future generations, here on the sunny side.