The Thanksgiving Tree

[Guest guest]

The Thanksgiving Treeby Newport

 

It is Thanksgiving weekend here in Michigan. The weather is cool. The sky is

blue.

 

I am standing at the picture window, looking out at

our front yard. And there it is - the small tree Penni and I planted three

years ago. A few wilted-up leaves hang on, but soon they will be blown off.

It's just a matter of time.

 

I remember the day Penni brought the tree home. As

she pulled up in the driveway, I saw a big grin on her face. She got out of the

car, producing the scraggly runt of a tree. She'd found it in a dumpster behind

our local garden center. The tree's leaves were wilted, its roots were crowded,

and the pot it was in was so very dry.

 

Being an optimist, I also began to smile. " We

will bury it in good soil, fertilize it, and water it every day, " I said.

" We can save this tree. " And Penni agreed. We decided to plant our

little tree right in the center of our front yard for everyone to see.

 

Penni and I prepared the soil, lowered the tree into

the ground, covered its roots with dirt, and watered it. As we worked, we

talked about how beautiful our tree would be someday. We dreamed about the

shade it would provide for our house once it was big and tall. We imagined

hanging a rope swing from its limbs. Lofting a tree house in its branches. We

had big dreams for this little tree.

 

In the fall of that year, I decided to prune some of

the branches to give it a great start for next spring. To be honest, our tree

looked pretty sorry.

As neighbors walked by, they'd see our tree and

chuckle. " Why bother with that poor tree? " they'd whisper.

 

And I'd ask myself, " Why am I such an optimist?

Why am I trying to save this tree? "

 

Thinking back to my early years, I remember playing

basketball. I went to a small school and we had a terrible athletic program. In

the years I went to school there, we never - not once - won a game. Not

basketball. Not football. Not baseball. Nothing.

 

But I remember playing each and every game until the

end as though we were going to win. Some of the guys would give up as they

realized we'd lose, but I never did. As we'd walk off the court and I'd look up

at the scoreboard, I was always surprised to learn that it wasn't even a close

game.

 

I still don't know why I'm like this but I think it's

a good characteristic.

 

Getting back to the tree, in the years since we

planted our tree, it still does not look great. But I like that tree. I mean,

it could have given up.

Or I could have given up. But we didn't. Maybe

someday that tree will be big and beautiful and the people passing by will

admire it. But even if that doesn't happen, it's okay because there is much

more to life than meets the eye. It's called hope. I like to hope. It's kinda

what keeps me going and I think that's a good thing also.

 

My son Evan is 22 months old. When he was born, the

doctors told us that he might not make it. They said, " He's not perfect.

He has a lot of medical problems. " After 252 days in the hospital, Penni

and I brought him home. We look at Evan and we see potential. We take him and

love him and care for him, just like our little tree.

 

People look at Evan and you can see the look in

their eyes, it's the same look they give the tree. But we put Evan right out

there in front and show him off. We have hope that someday he will be big and

strong just like the tree. But even if that doesn't happen, it's okay because

life is full of imperfect things. If we give up, we lose. But if we hope, if we

try to overcome, if we say, " We can do it, " that's when we win.

 

Newport, Evan's Dad