mighty magnolia
Some years ago a man returned to his hometown with his family. On that trip, many of those evenings consisted of a walk after dinner either out to the fields or down to the creek. Sunday evening came and bellies were very full, so outside the family went. While walking down the dirt road he grew up on, his youngest came running up by his side to join. The questions begin filling her eager mind — to the point of spilling over. She began spouting off “So did the school bus come alllll the way down the road to pick you up? Has the dirt always been this red? Who won the most foot races between you and your siblings?” She pauses to giggle and then proceeds “Do you think I’m faster than you were at my age???” She continues like this for several minutes. Then, as the curiosities begin to slow, her final question brought with it a memory that he hadn’t realized was there and a story she would one day decide to share.
She was pointing out and to the left — in front of an old rundown brick house — as she began asking “Hey, has that tree always been there? Has it always been that big?” Of course he glanced over to the tree, and immediately began taking in all its current-day hugeness. It was evident that a perspective changing memory was racing through his mind faster than he ever recalled running a race against his brothers.
At that moment, he remembered planting that tree. Some 40 years ago.
So he stood there, hands on hips, thinking and digesting all that memory had to offer before deciding to find a seat next to his littlest. He started explaining the day he planted this tree. “Well actually my Grandma, who would have been your Great Grandma Vera, spotted a 2 or 3 foot tall tree across the field early one morning. So later that week, when I got home from school she told me to go get the widest shovel I could find and dig it up. She wanted me to plant it out front of her lovely brick home.” He sees his daughter wrinkling her eyebrows at the thought of the broken down house she’s looking at being someone’s lovely home at one point or another. But he continues, “Whole time I’m digging this hole, grandma was telling me how it’ll provide great shade one day and we’ll have beautiful blossoms to enjoy each spring. You know, one thing that I clearly remember about digging up that tree was questioning how it would ever grow big enough to give off any shade or if it would ever actually start growing.” Now, making eye contact with his daughter, he says “And as bad as I wanted to bring my questions to Grandma Vera, I did not. I just did as I was asked.” She smirked, crossed her arms, and looked firmly back at her dad as he was finishing his thoughts. “After that chore was complete I honestly never thought much about it after that day. It might have grown a foot each year, but I never did notice. ”
Looking at what this tree had grown into over the last 40 years was making him think, really think. It was almost like he was trying to make up for all the times he walked past it but never thought anything of it. Maybe if he stared long enough a memory of him mowing the lawn at 16 years old would occur and he could say that he remembered the size of it back then, but nothing was coming to mind. All those years of growth, and none of it he could recall. He couldn’t prove growth — until today. This was starting to feel like more than a memory, this was a long lost belief he was recovering.
By now, the sun was setting and the mosquitoes were biting. They both stood up, she dusted off as much dirt as she wanted to before jumping on her dad’s back and they moseyed back towards the house. He was mumbling some thoughts loud enough for his daughter to hear… “ I mean, who knew what I planted would become something folks would have to throw their heads back just to see the top of… we gotta pay more attention to what’s growing… in us and around us… we plant everyday, without even knowing it. Man oh man, we really don’t consider the possibilities. How did all of those years pass by without me pausing to take in the growth? Each day I wake up, I’m holding seeds and watering what I can’t see. That’s a blessing, really.. that tree… a sturdy blessing, a steady reminder.”
At once glance, that tree looks like any other Alabama-grown tree sitting against the evening horizon. But that day, I began learning how that it had a meaning and a significance that reaches deeper than the roots on that mighty magnolia. At one point or another, we all own the belief that great things begin from something as small as an idea, a dream, or even a prayer — I call those seeds. And nowadays, I find myself hoping that belief comes back and visits me more often than not.
