May, 2010

The morning was crisp and bright as about a dozen folks from RUCC gathered in the church kitchen for breakfast burritos. A short time later, we were all breathing in the fresh mountain air of Lake Arrowhead. We were chomping at the bit to get started planting trees to reforest an area decimated by the Old Fire in 2003.

After a short, bumpy ride in a rustic Pinzgauer, our crew arrived at the worksite. The bright sun soon caused jackets and sweatshirts to give way to short sleeves, and before long, we were learning how to use the McLeod hoe and a dibble to plant little four-inch tall seedlings into the fertile soil.

As I worked, I couldn’t help but recall the Joyce Kilmer poem Trees:

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

If you know me, you also know that all I could remember while working out in the forest were the first and last lines. When I came home and looked up the rest of the words, I was reminded of how well it fit with our experience. There’s something that brings you closer to God when you get down on your knees and press your hands around a tiny sprig of life. We tried to breathe strength into each of them to survive the first few years until they could firmly take root and fend off the elements.

The most moving part of the experience for me, was a suggestion from one of the volunteer supervisors to name our trees. We felt sure that Dorothy and Steven were smiling down on their namesakes, that Sharon, Leif and Jen were praying for the success of our mission, and that grandmothers, parents and other loved ones were being remembered in the small branches and needles.

I think this is also what happens regularly at RUCC as we plant the seeds of Christian love in one another. We call each person by name as we pray for their continued growth. And even where the mountainside seems barren because of past disasters, we replant hope for a new tomorrow.

With optimism and hope,
Loring Fiske-Phillips