He’s gone. Dead. Passed away.

Gone.

Just yesterday, it seems, the call came. They found him in his recliner, laid back, as if asleep. I can’t count the times I came into the living room to find him like that. It was his place to rest; it was his place to think; it was his place to commune with God.

How would he have gone any other way?

The old man (I use the term with the greatest of respect) has been on my mind a lot lately. Independent, stubborn—in a loving kind of way, and determined to follow his God into eternity, he refused to be taken care of. A thousand and a half miles from any of his children, he lived on his own terms.

The shadow he cast over the lives of his family may never fade. Perhaps, in time, we may notice it less. Now in our sixties, all of his children will attest to the influence he wielded, frequently purposefully, but mostly without that intent at all.

Parents are like that, if we let them be. I was happy to stay in the shade of this man; grateful for the protection from the heat of the long summer days.

And, shade there was. He offered guidance—when asked, and correction—sometimes without being asked. Over the years, he and I developed the kind of relationship that was comfortable enough to endure the inevitable disputes. He corrected me; I corrected him. Neither of us actually complied with the correction, we simply moved on, leaving the disagreements behind.

I have come to realize that the shade had thinned in the last few years.

Mere weeks ago, my siblings and I sat at the table in my dining room, drinking coffee and talking about our lives and about life in general. I gazed out the front window at the old maple tree near the street and commented on its imminent demise.

The old tree is nearing seventy years old, the only one remaining of the original five planted by my late father-in-law. Like the other four, it will come down soon. There are few full limbs left, the scraggly arms jutting out from the huge trunk offering just the barest growth of leaves now. The limbs that have been removed have left hollows, places for water to stand and further rot the heart of the tree. Now, when it rains, the water that enters the open heart fifty or so feet above the ground drains out a knothole only a couple of feet up on the trunk.

Even now, in its last stages, the old tree casts a long shadow. It may do so for several more years. Not much shade to be found, but the shadow of the skeletal old trunk stretches for many feet more than its actual height.

As I gazed at the tree and pointed out its defects to my siblings, my mind jumped to my father, not knowing his body was even then lying in the recliner, his soul having begun his journey into eternity.

As I write, my thoughts—like a movie camera—dissolve from the old maple tree to the words of David’s First Psalm.

Like a tree planted by water flowing down to the sea, is the righteous man; his delight, in the Law of the Lord. Day and night, his mind is taken up with the meditation of what God desires. The leaves of that tree shall not shrivel up, will never lose their green coloration and fall to the ground. Fruit shall he bear in the right season, and he will have success in all his labors. (Psalm 1: 2,3 ~ my paraphrase)

Reality hits, and through tears, I realize the shade is gone. I will not again call him seeking wisdom, will never hear his voice quoting his favorite scripture reminding me of God’s thoughts towards me and His promise of blessing.

The shade is gone.

Ah, but the shadow is not.

Perhaps there will never be a time in my life when I don’t feel that shadow, the reminder of what we knew for years. The shadow stretches long from the past, and yet, reaches far into the future.

Shade is good when one needs protection and comfort. But, it takes the sunlight to grow to the full measure of who our Creator wants us to be. And shadows to remind us once in awhile of how we got here and where we’re headed.

I can’t tell you he was perfect. No man has ever been, save one. This one was definitely human. There are stories which will never be told and, then again, some that may never stop being told giving proof of that.

Still, he leaned back in that easy chair day after day, and considered the words of the Lord, letting them seep thoroughly into his very being.

Roots, sunk deep.

I’m thinking there will be shade trees again in eternity. What beauty and grandeur those stately groves must display in that blessed home!

I know there’s a river that runs there.

Shade.

By the river.

 

 

The true meaning of life is to plant trees, under whose shade, you do not expect to sit.
(Nelson Henderson ~ Canadian farmer)

But his delight is in the law of the Lord; and in his law doth he meditate day and night. And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.
(Psalm 1:2-3 ~ KJV)

 

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2019. All Rights Reserved.