Christian Living

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From down the street, over the barbed-wire fence and across the field it beckoned to me. Its branches swaying in the wind appeared to be waving to me like a long-lost friend. It was The Tree.

I was seven years old and our family had just moved from the forest-laden north to the bald prairies of southern Saskatchewan. The tallest plant that I had spotted before The Tree was a tumbleweed! Needless to say, I just HAD to go climb that tree. So, I walked down the street (beyond the limits my parents had set), scooted under the barbed-wire fence (with only a minor tear to the seat of my pants) and ran at top-speed to The Tree (to avoid detection of my mother's watchful eye).

I climbed that tree like a monkey to the top branches. To my seven year old soul, it felt like a little taste of heaven. I swayed with the wind, all alone but not at all lonely. I looked all around me, and there were no other trees to be seen. There was, however, a clump of low-lying bushes far off in the distance that looked fun to explore. I scampered down the tree, but when I got to the ground the bushes were no longer visible. Not deterred, I began walking in the general direction of the bushes and after considerable time I found them. From there I saw, much further away, more scrub brush (a term used by Canadian prairie-dwellin' folk to describe the prickly, half-dead bushes that grow in the dry prairies). I went to explore. And so it went, from field to field, from bushes to bushes. Eventually, my sense of adventure began to fade, and I realized that not only was I alone... I was also beginning to feel a little bit lonely. And hungry - the rumblings in my stomach indicated that it was well past lunch time. I HAD to get home.

Suddenly, what had been a fun and exciting excursion became the stuff of nightmares as I turned around to run home and saw TWO different clumps of bushes in slightly different directions. From which had I come? Now, I was not only lonely, but very, very afraid.

I wandered for hours, crying and screaming, until I eventually saw The Tree. Its branches looked like they were reaching out to embrace me, and I felt very much like the prodigal son returning home. I only hoped that my parents were going to be as welcoming!

It was late in the evening when I walked through the door of my house to meet a pair of very upset parents and a handful of concerned neighbours who had been searching for me for most of the day.

Well I must admit that, unlike the prodigal son, I received neither a fatted calf nor a new robe. Instead, I was thoroughly disciplined, fed a healthy supper, and tucked into bed with a hug and a kiss. My bed had never before felt so cozy and comfortable. It was good to be home!

As I grew up from being a child tempted by the lure of a tree, to a woman surrounded by the enticing facade that one is constantly bombarded with, the Lord has often reminded me of The Tree. It was a good lesson learned: It is better to stay on the right path in the first place than to painfully search for the way back and have to deal with the consequences.

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