When we first moved to our home, my parents planted flowers, shrubs, and trees in the front yard. Everything took off and grew, except for this one sad looking tree. It drove my mother nuts. Everything around it would grow and blossom year after year, but not this little tree. It just stood there, doing it's own thing. No one could tell that tree what to do. My mom would tell dad to cut it down and replace it with something else but he would always say no. "It's going to come into it's own at it's own time," he said. "It's my Andrea tree." I don't know whether to be offended that he called me a late bloomer or be thrilled that he believed in me? That tree now blooms year after year and is the tallest of the bunch. A late bloomer still but a bloomer indeed.
I didn't know about the tree story until this past week as we sat in the hospital and I asked my mom why dad called it The Andrea tree. I always thought it was because I was grounded and a force to be reckoned with. Very funny dad. Very funny.
I like to think my dad was the tree. Strong and mighty yet calming and still. His quiet presence was comforting when you needed him but don't upset him, because he would never break. His love of the Lord, my mother and his family is what grounded him. His roots were firmly planted in the word of God. Colossians 2:7 says, "Let your roots grow down into him, and let your lives be built on him. Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness." My dad was so thankful. So grateful. So blessed. That man could just sit for hours like a tree and not move and be happy. He was content and at peace at all times because he knew his life was full of love. His children were loving others the way he taught by his example. He taught us that love is an action. He showed us love the way he lit up every time my mom walked in the room. He showed us love when cheered us on through out our lives and accomplishments. He showed us love when he sang silly songs to the kids or threatened to take their toys because they were "mine" He loved and he was loved.
I want to end by saying that this Andrea tree is only as strong as her roots. The roots that my dad planted for me when he chose to be my dad and gave me the best family. We are strong because of the way he watered us. He showered us in love. Please remember that love is an action. You don't feel love. You do it.
