just up the street

today the tree got a new home outdoors. here is its first taste of fresh air and sunshine in two weeks:


getting ready to be covered with yummy midwestern soil:




happy january tree:

ebenezer

yet this remains love's plea:
"i won't let the Creator break His promise to me.
a great pledge, sealed and signed, to me was given,
a charter of rights in perpetuity."

rabindranath tagore
"i won't let you go"

like most people, when i make a promise, i try my best to keep it. but there are times when one thing drives out another, and the pledge is driven out with the another. blame it on human nature. blame it on me. blame it on the rain. imperfection vainly striving to produce perfection.

my friends will tell you i'm forgetful. i've never been able to remember my PIN number for my ATM card no matter how many times they have to send me a new one, or the date my credit card bill is due, or my students names from last year. but there are advantages to forgetfulness: i don't remember the inane things i uttered in class last semester, or (apparently) my encounter with a girl who wanted to beat the stuffing out of me in high school. these are things i wouldn't deem worth remembering.

but not Him. not the eternal Promiser. i find great comfort in the two edged sword of remembering. He never forgets a promise made or a forgiveness offered. while i'm struggling to remember why i stacked these rocks here (and why i made them so darn tall), He is whispering in my ear of promises made as i hospital cornered the sheets on my bed in hell.

and so i won't let the Creator go, even if in this fog i forget.

adopt a tree

some of you may remember the orphaned tree we recycled last year at christmas. we rescued it from early recyling at the local tree recyling center. this year we trumped that event. a week before the big day we were scanning the aisles at anthropologie and my mother noticed the "adopt a tree" sign in the foyer. we inquired. we adopted. and just two days later, boarded a truck for the reunion.

you may notice it's a little imperfect with a jaunty tilt to one side, and uneven limbs; but the little birds feel right at home in it. (which one of us isn't a little imperfect with a jaunty tilt to one side?)

the best part of this story is that this is a live tree. not a live, cut tree of the ordinary kind, but the real balled-and-burlaped deal. the kind you put in the ground. the kind that needs water to survive. the kind you can visit for years to come.

we will visit this one and say a friendly hello.