New Beginnings
I’ve taught for around 11 years on the campus of Dordt University. Last year, I moved to a “window office” and can’t get enough of the natural light. Inspiration often comes from the blank stares out the window as I gather my thoughts, think through my teaching, or just go somewhere else for awhile.
Once in awhile I’ll get a suicidal bird or giant insect flying into my window keeping me fully present.
I attended this college about 16 years ago and there’s this massive maple tree that stood on the west side of the academic complex where nearly all my classes were held as an undergraduate and where now almost all my classes are held as I teach social work students.
It was HUGE
We were told last week that the tree was cracking and somewhat hollow which posed risk to pedestrians and cars.
I didn’t think too much about it—I mean I was kind of sad because it’s big and quite pretty from my window. But, I’m a social worker not an ecologist.
We deal with abuse, divorce, abandonment, addiction, death, and all sorts of messy stuff. I have never been one to openly acknowledge the losses in nature as “sad” (as long as people weren’t harmed).
I was raised on a farm where our new dog arrived after the old one lost the game of “bite the feed truck tire.” Admittingly, even the sad animal commercials don’t get to me much. I mean…we have starving orphans in this world.
But for some reason, God gave me a front row view of the taking down of this tree today.
I had several visitors in my office to catch the gradual transformation. I was happy to host them and talk through the strategies of the skilled tree guy taking it down branch by branch.
As I sit here this afternoon I see many people slowly driving by, taking pictures from their cars and hopping out to take a selfie. Some just seem to be…sad.
I bet there were a lot of stories by that tree. Our lives went on around and by it each day and it just faithfully changed its colors, provided shade, and gave us something to appreciate.
And just like that, it’s gone.
Dordt promised they would plant a new one and I’m sure it will be nice (especially in another 100 years). But this experience just reminded me that change can feel uncomfortable, weird, and unsettling for whatever reason.
New beginnings are sometimes necessary though.
Sometimes for our health and sometimes for our safety.
I thank God today for helping me appreciate His tree and remind me that He values me 1,000 times more than that stump of wood He’s been nurturing for over 100 years. He grieves with us through the changes and walks us through the new beginnings.
And I believe New beginnings are often worth the discomfort.
Ready for a Fresh start?
Come join the 6 week Faith-Based Virtual Trauma Group for Women
The next group will start in January!
