I know there is a giant, gnarly, thorny tree in my front yard. I mean it’s right outside my front door. We named it the Jesus tree because there is a heart shaped scar on its trunk and very large thorns that looked like they would have been used to make the crown on Jesus’s head before he was crucified.
I tell the kids to wear shoes. I tell friends to be very careful. I wear a helmet when I walk outside in case one of the very large, thorny branches fall on my head. All this to say, I stepped on a thorn Friday.
The kids asked me to go outside for a huge water fight using the super soakers we found on clearance a few weeks earlier. And you see, I really only wear flip flops during the summer. And because I can’t run (at all) or very fast when my flip flops are wet, I took them off for better traction.
I was winning until my daughter brought the garden hose up front, cornering me against my son who had his super soaker at my back. There I was stuck between absolute wetness and the big thorny tree.
When my gun ran out of water, I told them kids I needed a time-out to refill at the water spout in the front of our house. I carefully walked along the grass, looking for thorns when BAM! a giant thorn pokes my pinky toe, going all the way to the bone.
I pulled the thorn out, sat down to look at the damage, and realized I was pretty much okay. After cleaning off the puncture wound, I refilled and conquered.
Later that afternoon, my foot became swollen and there was a sharp pain up my leg. And by the evening, I was limping.
When my leg still hurt the next morning, and after my husband said he’d try to dig out any splinter with toenail clippers, I went to convenient care. She gave me antibiotics for infection, and told me to go the podiatrist if it was still throbbing on Monday morning.
Well, thanks to antibiotics and some cow udder stuff my friend gave me, I’m feeling better today.
But there’s still this dangerous, gnarly tree in front of my house. The dangerous tree that infected my foot!
My person said she thought I should but the tree down. It is a hazard to my family and our guests.
But the tree is more important than that. Yes, it is a scary tree. But for me, it also serves as a reminder that we can’t live and just remove things out of fear of being hurt.
I’m scared of so many things. I know the risks of getting in the car everyday. Still do it. I know the risks of running a business. Still do it. I know the risks of sending my kids to school Still do it. I know the risks of opening my heart up to people. Still do it. I know the risks of walking around in my front yard, barefoot. Still do it.
Why? Because if I don’t do the scary things, if I just eliminate everything that has the potential to hurt me, then I have nothing. But more importantly, if I do that, then I also miss out on all the good things those objects or experiences have to offer, too.
Even my gnarly tree has good qualities. It provides great shade in the late afternoon. And sometimes bunnies will build a nest at its base for their babies. The front step serves as a respite for me when I’m feeling troubled, and the tree shades me. And some of my favorite memories are watching my children, niece and nephew look at the baby bunnies in my yard.
