Trees Give Shade

Everyone needs a moment to clear their head and see things the way they truly are.

Let me start with this disclaimer and personal reminder to myself: you never stop being a parent.

In order for clarity to reign supreme in the story I about to relate, I must go back to last Thursday.  This was the day before I left to go on a flight from Philadelphia to Iowa so I could visit with my twenty three year old son over the Labor Day weekend.  

On that night my ten year old daughter decided to give me a picture she had drawn with magic markers on what I thought was an old scrap of paper.  During the weekend while in Iowa I discovered the picture in my suitcase and pulled it out to share with him.  Upon closer investigation I noticed my daughter had mistakenly colored over one of her sister’s old homework assignments.  Then when I looked even closer three words jumped out at me: TREES GIVE SHADE.  The phrase resonated so deeply in my thoughts that I immediately tucked it away in my mind to be used at a later date.

With that being said I boarded a plane on Labor Day after having had a great weekend with my son.  Feeling very melancholy and in a surreal state of mind my eyes felt like a camera lens, taking in everything I saw.  That feeling continued as I took a window seat on a commuter plane that was flying from Cedar Rapids, Iowa into the Windy City of Chicago as the sun set.

This is what my eyes roughly saw from that window seat during the last ten minutes before we landed:

“High above the Windy City what I clearly see is a string of brilliant white lights hung on a pitch black canvas.  In the night air it was as if God had hung them there for my eyes only to see.  Upon closer examination I discovered these were street lights that a knife had cut out holes into the darkness. Yet something seemed to be missing.

As I continued observing I was captivated by the traffic moving oh so gracefully in this magical world, miles below my feet. So beautiful was the dark canvas shrouded in light, that it reminded me of an electric train display does at Christmas time encapsulating a feeling of warmth and serenity. Much like the feeling a warm blanket provides on a cold winter’s night back home in Pennsylvania.

 Then it dawned on me what was absent.  Where are the trees that give shade?

Now, as I sit at my computer, my conundrum of unseen shade trees has become clear.  As a parent I realize I am a shade tree for my kids.  When they are younger it is like daytime and my belief is my job and privilege is to protect them from the heat and rain and give them shade and shelter with my branches.  However, as they grow older like my son has it becomes like night time and my presence becomes like my view of Chicago; I am still there like the trees, even though I can’t be seen.

It can be frustrating being a parent sometimes, leaving you feeling less useful. Nevertheless, my biggest hope is that my son remembers how much I love him and the girls, too when they grow up.  Although I cannot always protect them my prayers are always for them.

Like a good tree gives shade, you never outgrow your parents’ love.

Swavel