A few weeks ago I took a little trip to Savannah, Georgia with my mother. It was a wonderful drive through mountains green with hardwood trees that in just a few weeks will paint a palette along the roadways with swashes of red, orange and gold. As we drove along we imagined what a sight that will be.
Once in the lovely city of Savannah, we took a trolley ride around the city as we learned some of the city’s history and horticulture. At one point we turned a corner near Forsythe Park and learned of a very special tree. The enormous Candler Oak stands sentinel over this beautiful park from a lonely spot on a parking lot near a hospital that has been long closed. The story told by our guide recounted a failed development deal between some New York builders who wanted buy the empty hospital and put up housing. The catch? The 300 year old tree would have to go. The people of Savannah said “No way.” and the building still sits empty.
It was a wonderful story and I hope it is true. The idea that, in these modern times any group of people would forgo such an economic deal for the love of a tree, warms my heart. As we passed the towering tree, I have to admit to feeling a deep emotion stir within me and I can’t get the image of that magnificent tree out of my mind. To what has this tree been present over these three centuries? Wars? Romances? Children growing? People aging? Who has stood, as I did, giving thanks for its strong trunk, its sheltering branches? Just imagine the life, and the changes in lives, that have been witnessed by this giant oak.
Tonight while searching through some worship resources, I read these words of Howard Thurman. ” When the storms blew, the branches of the large oak in our backyard would snap and fall. But the utmost branches of the oak tree would sway just enough to save themselves from snapping loose. I needed the strength of that tree, and, like it, I wanted to hold my ground. Eventually, I discovered that the oak tree and I had a unique relationship. I could sit, my back against its trunk, and feel the same peace that would come to me in my bed at night. I could reach down in the quiet places of my spirit, take out my bruises and my joys, unfold them, and talk about them. I could talk aloud to the oak tree and know that I was understood.”
Perhaps those who made the decision to rule, not in the favor of progress, but for the life of this oak understood what it means to ‘need the strength of a tree.’ In their decision
to save this glorious tree, they made an investment. An investment in relationship. An investment in quiet places, in spirit, in peace and in healing.
The tree, at 300 years, cannot stand forever. But those who chose to let the tree live, to stand their ground, have provided an example of things that matter for the long haul. Hopefully, that has made all the difference, not only for this mighty oak, but for all who choose to learn from its story.
