The Gardener’s Tree (Keeper of Memories)

Once there was a gardener who kept a great estate for a wealthy client. The gardener was very talented and did amazing things with his client’s grounds. He was especially adept at taking care of diseased plants. In fact, his reputation grew to the point that he often traveled to diagnose problems that other master gardeners could not fix. Over time his relationship with the estate owner grew so that he became like family to the man. He moved into a fine home adjoining the estate and was given an inheritance of the estate orchard when the owner passed away. This orchard was immense, and the gardener earned a good living, but he had a special relationship with a beautiful large apple tree in the center of the orchard. You see, it was the first thing he planted when he began working on the estate and he always treated it in a special way, with love and reverence. He even crafted a large tree house for his children in it. Whenever the family got together for picnics during fine weather, the tree was witness. Then, one season the tree began to exhibit some symptoms of disease. The gardener treated them, but eventually he realized that the tree’s sickness was beyond even his great talent. Eventually, the last leaf fell and rain in the form of the gardener’s tears touched the ground beneath where the apple tree’s branches yielded tasty apples and relief from the hot sun. Some time later the gardener began a project that kept him busy in his workshop for hours on end. He stayed up late many evenings until finally the project was completed. It was a beautiful curio cabinet with intricate scroll work and inlaid glass for shelves and doors. He placed it at one end of the family dining room where everyone would see it when they shared meals. Inside he placed all of their favorite photos, the children growing up, graduating, getting married, loved friends. And so, the apple tree lived on, sheltering the family as it always had.

Memory Tree come shelter me,
in God’s orchard when I am gone.
Show heaven’s stars through your leaves once again,
then rustle with the wind at dawn.
Be the meeting place as my friends and family
move on to their reward.
You are God’s gift to me in heaven as you were on earth.

© Joel Tipple
375

Young Music

If you love them,
give them the gift of music.
It makes every other class they take worth more.
And if you’re interested in success for their future,
you’ll find it helps open so many doors.
Who can take part?
Anyone with a heartbeat.
Humans were born to communicate
using rhythm and sound.
It’s a universal language
that proves we can all find common ground.
Don’t be short sighted and cancel music,
thinking you can’t afford to pay.
You simply can’t afford the silence,
and you’ll be contributing to society’s decay.

© Joel Tipple
360

The Gravel Pile

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There was once a very nice home at the end of the street in an average small city neighborhood. Where the house once stood there is now a small mountain of pebbles. None of the stones are larger than the end of your little finger. It stands as something of a warning to those who remember the couple who lived there, and sadness, like a blanket of fog, still lingers over it.

The man and woman who lived there once were happy, and looked forward to having a long peaceful life together, raising their family. They would pour their lives into each other and their children, and someday, they hoped, look upon this house as the place where their fondest memories had been.

One day, the man noticed his wife had a habit of dropping her wet towels on the floor of the bathroom. He told her it was a bad habit, and she should stop doing it. A pebble fell into the yard. But no one noticed. The man had a bad memory about some things, like taking out the trash. His wife told him she was tired of reminding him. Another pebble clicked onto the roof and startled the bird perched on the gutter. Other than the bird, no one saw it. As time went on, the list of things the couple disliked about each other grew. Each time a complaint was added without the compensation of love, the pile around the house grew. The couple didn’t stop to wonder where the pebbles were coming from. They only considered it something else to complain about, since outside maintenance was a duty they shared. In fact, it was an activity they once enjoyed doing together.

Eventually the neighbors noticed their friends’ property taking on the appearance of a construction dump site. The couple would fight their way into the house and fight their way out, through the gravel mounded up like snow drifts. But no one took the responsibility to clean it up, since that would be admitting it was his fault or her fault. Then, one night, when they couldn’t remember all the wonderful qualities they once admired in each other, only those things that were annoying, the decision to divorce was made. By now the pile of pebbles reached the eves of the house, but when the couple left for good, a small avalanche fell and covered what was left of it. The noise made everyone in the neighborhood who was home at the time step outside to gawk, but again, where the pebbles had come from that erased the home, no one knew.

After the home had been vacant for some time, a few neighbors were standing around near the gravel pile talking. The subject of whether the couple might ever reunite and move back came up. “I don’t think so,” one man said. “Why not?” said another. “It just all looks so heavy,” he replied. Then a woman at the edge of the group chimed in, “I don’t know. What if they just took away a little at a time?”

There is one whose rash words are like sword thrusts,
but the tongue of the wise brings healing. Proverbs 12:18 ESV

Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins.
Show hospitality to one another without grumbling. 1 Peter 4:8-9 ESV

If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate.
If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, “Jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing.
1 Corinthians 13:1-2 The Message

© Joel Tipple
357

The Eve of Thanksgiving

On the Eve of Thanksgiving,
we’re grateful in advance
for the family and friends
who will share our repast.
Because it’s not so much
that with turkey we’re smitten,
but rather the fact we all gather bidden,
to enjoy the bounty with which we are blessed
and remember those loved ones from Thanksgivings past.

© Joel Tipple
351

Shopping for Gifts

Every day is a good day
to search for gifts to give.
You don’t always have to look far,
you can start where you live.
Give your family truth,
with a large side helping of love.
Use the example of Jesus,
who modeled His father above.
Give the gift of excellence at work.
Refuse to offer less.
Your work is your mirror.
Let it reflect you gave your best.
To the world give the gift of authentic hope.
To those who are drowning, send a life saving rope.

© Joel Tipple
344

Technology

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At the risk of sounding
like an out of touch troglodyte,
I’d like to encourage
connoisseurs of technology
to consider what I say
in spite…
of their love for all things digital.

If the face you pay the most attention to
is really a screen,
you’re at risk for someday looking up
and finding no human beings.

People are difficult,
sure.
Unpredictable,
we’re pretty much all in beta,
and many of us are not that compatible,
and lack the latest updates.

However, though the risks are there,
the rewards for really being present
for the people you know
and don’t know yet,
are greater.

© Joel Tipple
312

Walking Around

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Lord, do you think it’s breaking?
Can you confirm the sound?
They say when you have children
it’s like your heart out there
walking around.

Walking around out there in the world,
a boy, a girl, or both.
Forever young though years may pass,
the cord feels like a rope.
Lord I know you’ve been there,
so I won’t waste words complaining
it isn’t fair.

Lord I know we can be
a little melodramatic,
and parents throughout the ages
have been correctly described as frantic.
But since you gave us each a heart,
perhaps share the reasons,
and as long as we’re going through it,
help us survive the seasons.

Walking around out there in the world,
an evolution of trust.
A joy and burden all wrapped up,
though we try not to fuss.
Mentioned in our prayers often,
if not more.
A wise parent focuses on the gratitude score.

© Joel Tipple
307

My Name is Cactus

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Hello, my name is Cactus. I’ve lived here for some time.
A little girl planted me with her papa.
The next line doesn’t rhyme. (Oh, it does)
I live under a bush they call Rosemary.
They almost forgot I was here.
But then, Rosemary got a good trimming,
maybe too good, I fear.
The norm is they take a little,
but this time they took a lot,
and here I was just waiting,
with my mouth open wide in a gawp.
Like I said, behind me is Rosemary,
her front open wide like a cave.
But I’ll guard her from interlopers,
with my spikey mouth and arms splayed.

© Joel Tipple
295

Green Granddaughter

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This week I managed to go out three times cycling, twice to work, which is 15 miles away. Since my bike is part of my exercise plan and a way to save money on gas, I came home satisfied, though tired. As I came through the back door, I could hear my six-year-old granddaughter in the living room, so I went in to say hello.

Me: “Hey Cynthia, how was school?”
Cynthia: “Good. Hey Papa, why are you wearing that?”
Me: “These are my cycling clothes. I rode my bike three times this week. Isn’t that cool?”
Cynthia: “Yeah. Hey Grandma, Papa’s recycling!”

© Joel Tipple

Outage

Photo by Urban Wall Art & Murals
Photo by Urban Wall Art & Murals

This memory could really go along with yesterday’s post, and is probably a familiar one to most of you, those moments when the power goes out.

I have a vivid memory of riding home from the little store. The little store was just that, little. It was a very small gas station with a tiny grocery store attached to a home. I suppose at one time there were many more “little stores” in the United States. Corner grocery stores. Actually, we live down the street from my in-laws, and on their block there was once a little store, too. Their dog would ask to go by himself to get a treat there. They would open their front door and he would go to the store by himself, collect a small Tootsie Roll from the proprietor, gobble it up, and go back home.

Okay, back to the ride home. It’s funny that I would make much of the ride. It only amounted to a few blocks. A few blocks in a small town, I might add. The wind reminded me of the wind Dorothy experiences on her way back into her house, before she gets the bump on her head, falls back into her bed and flies off to Oz. As I tacked my faux Sting Ray bike into the wind, already bits of debris, such as asphalt roofing, were slapping across the road. Shortly after I got home, the power went out. The next day, something like half the barns in our county were down, at least all the barns that were were due to go down, if you know what I mean. The point of my story, though, was not the little store, or even the storm. It was more the quiet after the power went out. Candles, food heated on the Franklin Stove, board games, no TV, talking. A good memory created when a minor inconvenience became a night of reliving a simpler time.