In the park near our house when I was in middle school there was the tallest pine tree all by itself, growing in the field.
It whispered, "Climb me. To the top. Where my branches touch the cloudy Oregon sky."
For a while I ignored the tree, knowing that it was bit higher than my Mom would want me climbing. I can't say for sure how high it was, I'm horrible at judging distance, my brother Chris, would probably know since he was often there with me, wanting to climb the same tree. But it was definitely taller than four or five stories, which was off limits to us.
One day though, the tree was extremely loud and we decided we were going to climb the tree...all the way to the top.
The absolutely wonderful thing about trees in Oregon are their solid branches that grow densely together. It's perfect for tree climbing, which Chris and I had done plenty of times. There's a few rules to remember when climbing a tree.
1. Don't step on branches thinner than your wrist. That's just asking for trouble.
2. If you start to step onto a branch and the tree groans and complains and screeches at you, perhaps you should pick another branch. Listen to the tree.
3. Ignore sap, it's sticky but Mom's are great at getting it out of your clothes. They may roll their eyes at you when you hand them your clothing in a sticky bundle of fresh tree sap but they will get it out. They're amazing, Moms.
4. Windy days are for flying kites, not climbing trees.
And finally.... 5. Don't climb so high that the ground is now so small it has became a deadly weapon should you fall on it.
I rubbed my hands together in anticipation. I love climbing trees and this one was tall with the perfect amount of branches.
I grabbed the first branch and hauled myself into the tree. It had that fresh scent of pine that they try to bottle but will never succeed because humans can't duplicate the natural part of a smell. Somehow your nose will always know.
Chris started climbing the other side and we made quick time as the branches had grown just like a ladder. They were never far apart and they were all nice and sturdy. Every once and in a while we would peek out of the branches, noticing how the park was growing smaller and smaller.
But still we climbed.
Then my brother, who was younger than me, stopped. He was not going any higher.
I was in middle school, the big sister and the family tree climber. I wasn't going to stop. So higher and higher I went. It was amazing. The tree was so well built all the way to the top. Most of the time a tree starts to tamper out too thinly before you can reach anywhere near the top, so you have to stop...it's rule number 1 and 2. But this tree, having grown in the middle of the field didn't have to share nutrients from the ground or any rain water. It was king.
I climbed until the branches finally were too small near the top. The palm of my hands were scratched from the rough bark and covered in sap but I was grinning. I took a look around me and was amazed that I could see over most of the other trees, across the neighborhoods surrounding the park, and past the sugar beet field growing on the other side of the running track, I could see my friend's houses and I could see a vast expanse of cloudy Oregon sky.
And then I looked down...and down and down...to where my brother stood so tiny against the green grass that was so far away. My stomach lurched and my throat tightened. I gripped the tree tighter and felt a bit sick.
I had never felt afraid of being high up in a tree before. Ever. But I had never climbed so high up either. A gentle breeze blew across my cheek and I really started to realize just how far above the ground I was. If I were to fall, I would die. The thought was that simple and that direct.
The view was stunning but I suddenly had this intense and pounding need to touch the ground again but my hand wouldn't let go of the branch I was on. My fingers had suddenly started thinking for themselves and they refused to do anything that had to do with letting go of the tree.
Being the wildly creative person I am, I suddenly starting wondering if the fire trucks could reach me and how would they pluck me out of this tree and would they even drive on the grass to get me, or would that grouchy park manager that always scowled at me send them away because he didn't want his grass messed up? Would they leave me up here? And oh, boy, how mad would Mom be if she found out I climbed this far up into the tree. She would never allow me to go to the park again. I would be grounded. I was too old to be grounded. Urghh. I could not live in a tree even though it is a very Oregon thing to do.
Finally my thoughts turned back to my fear and knowing I couldn't allow it to win. I refused to live up in the tree and I decided I rather conquer the anxiety coursing through my veins than have to send my brother to fetch Mom. Parents can be great motivators. :)
Slowly, I made my way down the tree, my heart pumping quite fast and sweat dripping down my back. What had I been thinking? Apparently, there were trees that were just too high to climb, no matter how great and thick their branches were.
I jumped onto the ground, wanting to kiss it. I had always wondered why they did that in movies, it seemed so yucky, but now I understood. There is something immensely wonderful and grand about the ground...and your feet actually touching it.
Chris stared at me and I simply stared back. He knew I had went too far. But we both knew that we wouldn't speak a word of it to our parents. Perhaps when when we were thirty. We left that pine tree king alone for the rest of the time we lived there. It had somehow earned immunity from our tree climbing.
The rest of the trees had not and we spent a great deal of time climbing them. I was not going to let that moment of fear in the tallest tree keep me grounded.
I tell this story because there are some things we can't learn from the confines of our houses, watching television or chatting on the computer. We have to be outside, in nature, learning from all of creation just how far we can push ourselves. To be able to recognize the pounding of our own heartbeat, pushing ourselves pass our fears to accomplish the tasks before us. It is sometimes the closest I feel we can be to God in this physical world we inhabit.
So I give thanks that through a simple pine tree I learned that only my silly fears keep me from climbing higher on this journey of faith.
But I have to say, I wouldn't mind a parachute some times either. :)
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