Our family celebrated a wedding last weekend. Two people in love entered a new phase of their lives. The youngest attending the event was my great-nephew, four months old and the oldest, my 86-year-old mother. He has lived 124 days and she 31,390. During the span of those days and years, families have joined, lives intertwined, babies were born and some people passed on to a place we can only imagine. Generations spanning points in time, families merging … seasons.
A new season arrived today. Bradford pears have blossomed, iris blooms are peeking out, and robins are saying “Come on, spring!” A few other trees have a hint of green that will soon give way to the covering of leaves ushering in summer. And I’m ready. I don’t love cold weather. I am a warm sunshine girl.
I’m sitting on the porch swing, wearing my coat (still chilly). The sky is crimson and an old cottonwood stands between me and the horizon. No finery yet, just unadorned branches. I find a beauty in the tree not found when it is fully cloaked in greenery. Its gnarled trunk yields small branches. The branches give way to twisting and turning twigs. Feeding off each other, they draw strength from the root buried beneath the sod.
It reminds me of family: trunk, branches and twigs all connected. We are rooted in faith and hope given by God. Paths cross, lives intertwine, not just by marriage but by life, “one season following another, laden with happiness and tears.” We are family. Before spring and summer cover them, take a moment and look at the naked tree silhouetted by the sunset. Sometimes the dressy finery of summer is not as revealing and beautiful as the simple bare bark of winter, reminding us we are kin.