"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11
Growing up, we had an old filbert tree in our back yard. The Willamette Valley of Oregon was, and maybe still is, the filbert capital of the nation. I grew up eating the nuts I found that were free of wormholes. Unfortunately, the worms usually got to them first and I would crack them open to find a wiggling, bright green worm happily rooting its way through the meaty flesh.
Our filbert tree was probably once part of an orchard or farm that was cleared away in the 1970s to make way for a subdivision of tract-homes. The tree remained as landscaping and to give the property character. My dad threw a few feet of yellow, nylon cord around the lowest hanging branch and fashioned it with a wooden slat for a swing-seat.
I would swing so much a patch of bare earth developed below the swing causing the grass to refuse to grow. I would stand on the swing and push myself back and forth, propelled by my hips. I would lay beneath the green bows of the filbert and stare at the brilliant blue sky, tracing jet trails and listening to the sparrows.
Eventually, I outgrew the swing. It either fell down or was removed. The patch of brown earth, however, remained. Year after year, the worn earth had become a scar, a testament to my childhood; evidence.
Filbert trees require diligent grooming, because they are in fact a shrub. Even though they look, for all intents and purposes, like a tree, the filbert shrub sends out its new yearling shoots that spike out of the ground around its trunk. To keep the tidy appearance of a tree, the shoots need to be cut away. Filbert trees are also very messy. They are constantly dropping their fruit, an odd cluster of nuts, usually groupings of three, shrouded in a rough, green, leafy husk. For these two reasons, my mother disliked our filbert tree. She was the one who had to trim back the untidy sprouts and she was the one who usually would gather the discarded nuts from the ground.
My father, however, had a love for our filbert tree. He didn’t love it because it was green and offered shade. He didn’t love it because it produced nuts (that were often inedible). He didn’t love it because it was a relic of a by-gone era. He loved it because it had once hosted my swing. It had once been my playground. It was a physical reminder of his daughter’s childhood.
One day our filbert tree snapped in a windstorm, but it was not taken down. Year after year, it grew gnarled and misshapen. And yet, it lived on.
Eventually, due to its age and rot, the filbert was removed. I think when this happened my dad was alright with it. I was grown and had children of my own. New memories had replaced the fond memories of my youth. If I remember correctly, my sons even helped with its removal...
But what a testimony that tree was. It withstood years as a sentinel. It represented innocence and childhood. It represented hopes and dreams. It represented leisure and recreation.
Removing the filbert tree didn’t erase the memories. A visible monument isn’t required to be the evidence of a life lived well.
Unfortunately, we all outgrow childhood. We all outgrow innocence. The world is a harsh and troubled place. No matter what a wonderful world it was in our youth, one day we turn a corner to see the sepia tones crystalize into sharp contrasting vivid color. There are few places to hide from the reality of maturity.
Our world is governed by darkness and hate and oppression and fear. In childhood, we had no concept of these things, or at least I didn’t. But later in life we lose that innocent hope. We get tossed around in the sea of life and sometimes we become irrevocably lost.
We feel an emotional tie to our childhood because we are seeking to find the innocence and safety that it provided. There is little of that left in our world. But there is still hope. We can lose the childish mind, but we can keep the hope of the childish spirit. The Bible is sprinkled with the water of hope. It tells us that not only does Jesus bring hope, he is hope. Jesus came to give us an abundant life on earth. It might not be the life we choose, but it is the life of hope
The key is to trust him and follow his guidance. You may have a hard time finding trust and guidance, but if you seek out who Jesus is and develop a relationship with him, you will find that hope will grow. Be patient in the process, pray, read scripture, go to church and look for Jesus in all the corners of your life. He will show up in unexpected ways. He will bring hope.
There are times when we hold onto memories like a life raft. They sustain us through rough waters. There are times when our reality is hard and we long for days that were simpler or more innocent; glory days.
But the thing about a life raft is that eventually, you will have to let go. Eventually, you will reach land and the memories that were what sustained you can take their rightful place as a beautiful story from the good ole days. You can be thankful you experienced them. You can be grateful that they changed you and formed you into who you are now, but you can let go and step onto the ground of a new adventure.
And if you’re lucky, maybe there will be a swing in a filbert tree waiting for you when you get there.
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