Faith | A ‘nurse-log’ reminded him that we grow and sustain others too

Walking up the short road from the little country church to the nearby cemetery, I passed a robust, adolescent-aged tree growing up and out of an elderly stump about two feet in diameter.

I was there last week to help bury my dear high school friend of 50 years. I had been at that same church for his wedding, then again some 20 years later when he and his wife renewed their marriage vows. This time, instead of standing with him in church, I stood with his beloved wife and four adult children at his grave.

The experience was surreal.

On the one hand, he died too young — my age. He struggled for several years with ill health, so while deeply saddened we were not surprised.

In his latter days he kept saying, “Hey, it is what it is,” as he placed his trust for living and for dying in his God’s grace, mercy, and peace.

On the other hand, he did live over 66 years, and did the best he could.

One of his several vocations was as a national award-winning tree farmer. He knew trees from saplings to forests. He understood and participated in the life cycle of trees, aligning with the ancient wisdom poem, “there is a time to plant and a time to harvest.” For trees, that cycle is measured not in years but in decades.

Which brings me to what I saw alongside the little road from the church to the cemetery: an old stump providing nourishment and support to a new tree for the last decade or so. As I trudged up the road and later as I drove home across the state, I reflected on nature’s wise metaphor for the living of our days.

We all start as small saplings. At various points along the way, some don’t survive due to disease, wind, or competition for sun and water with other bushes and trees. Most grow over the years into full-fledged trees.

Many trees grow independently in the soil. Others, like the one that caught my attention, depend on the remains of old growth to get their start. They depend on “nurse logs” or “nurse stumps” for their vitality.

My friend’s biggest accomplishment and pride was in his four strong children.

He and his wife raised them into kind and decent persons who are now growing and contributing in their respective fields and forests. They are robust descendants who stand on their own and who readily and gratefully acknowledge their parental and ancestral roots.

I am reminded there are life-stumps, many of them, which have nurtured and sustained my growth over the years. I stand on their shoulders with gratitude. And I suspect I may have already served as a source of nurture and support for others in the forests and deserts where I have lived.

For now, may we each faithfully do what we can to grow and sustain a child, youth, or adult shrub or tree ... maybe even yours!