The Wisdom of Trees

Oh no, not another tree story, Rus! 

Funny how, other than people and God, trees are the most mentioned living thing in the Bible. In fact, there are trees on the first page (Gen.1:11-12) in the first psalm (Psalm 1:3) and on the last page (Rev. 22:2). And underscoring it all, wisdom is described as a tree, as well (Prov. 3:18).

I have a Hydro flask with a sticker that says, “I feel most alive among the tall trees.” Jen knew my love well when she bought it for me, and this year has proven to be the year of the tall trees. Months before that storm toppled our large oak upon the house, I’d taken down another tall one in the front yard. Hindsight shows me that I chose poorly, but I have the rounds of wood stacked nicely in the side yard awaiting axe and wedge. Fire pits in the fall are the best.

That tree had my eye from the moment we moved in; it presented itself unusually. It had a twisted and gnarly life, some 80+ years, and its largest limbs jutted out in a very odd way. There was nothing straight or uniform about it. Its sister, not four feet away, grew massive, straight, and tall. What kind of story might it have told? I’d been curious from day one, but since it leafed out and seemed healthy, I just watched it grow. 

A few years ago, I noticed a dark indigo stain weeping from a hole in the bark about five feet up the trunk. It was weird, and I dabbed it with my finger, smelling a sweet smell. I figured some insects had bored in, or a fungus had found a home. I didn’t think much about it. However, year after year the stain grew, leaving a long, dark stripe down the trunk. Eventually, that led me take it down, assuming a sickness had taken hold.

To my amazement, once the tree was on the ground and cut to lengths, I found that ink-like stain was much larger and had saturated the heart wood of the tree. It sank down into the stump and reached up the center of the trunk about six or eight feet. It was the oddest thing, that beautiful red oak was blackened at the center and radiated outward. That dark streak on the trunk had been a sign of a much more extensive issue of tainted wood at the core, but who could have known?

I enjoyed the smell of freshly cut wood and rolled the rounds to the side yard, but those stains were a mystery. I did an online search and found several arborist websites, and I finally came upon images of trunks that resembled my own. As it turns out, oaks are heavy with tannins which create a chemical reaction when exposed to iron and oxygen. The reaction produces a dark ink-like liquid, called “gall ink”. It’s been a source of writing ink for scribes from the earliest of times. Fascinating, huh? A nail or piece of wire must have been driven in when a young sapling, and before it could be removed, the tree grew around it. That iron, reacting to the tannins inside the tree, slowly stained the heart wood and remained hidden all these years. Ah, mystery solved! 

It’s been drying for months now, and I’ve begun to split it. The darkened core responded well to my axe and in the course of splitting, I’ve come upon the culprit. A nail, all but dissolved at the heart of the tree. Probably driven in by a child at play or a homeowner attaching a fence or laundry line. Hidden away and forgotten, but present, nonetheless. 

That which pierces and punctures often heals with time, yet perhaps not everything. Sometimes, if not intentionally removed, if not forgiven and released, a bitterness, a “gall” can develop at the heart level, a stain that can affect the rest of life. Even when buried for years, the effect eventually presents itself. 

I once knew a saintly woman who lived to a ripe old age, but in her waning years was plagued with the guilt of a hidden childhood trauma. As irrational as it seems, she questioned whether God would welcome her home when her time came. Wonderfully, she was led to a forgiving Father who beautifully dislodged the accusation and left her with unspeakable joy. She was welcomed into the arms of her loving Father not many days after.

I wonder what happened in the early days of that tree? What caused it to twist and turn the way it did? The knobs on its trunk, its irregular shape all indicate a story as does what was found inside. I wish I knew it better. 

One thing is for sure, it will give me many hours of pleasure soaking in a warm fire this year. Reflecting on the passage of a life, and how a tree might mimic my life in prayer, with twists and turns, and repeated years of growth, has made me think. Perhaps it’s not always beautifully straight, but it’s valuable and desired by the One who sees beauty in the ashes. 

Anything reacting on your insides? What’s presenting these days?