The Happy Little Sapling
This is a story about a sapling on the side of the road. Make of it what you will.
The commute from our home to our church in Nashville is tedious. In my experience, most commutes are. Yet it hasn’t always been this way for me. As a younger man, I loved driving and jumped at any excuse to get behind the wheel, crank up the volume on my car stereo, and hit the open road. But after 15 years of driving in rush hour to and from work, sometimes spending nearly 2 hours a day in traffic, my love for the commute died a whimpering, pitiful death. Now, I am blessed to work from home and my day-to-day commute is non-existent.
And yet, I still have a few necessary commutes. In an effort to not become a hermit, hidden away from the world, I will bravely venture out of my house from time to time. The most consistent place I go to is my church. It’s important for me to be around other believers. It’s important for me to sing songs with others, pray with others, and hear the Word of God preached. My soul needs those things. And since that involves a tedious commute, so be it.
There is a section of the commute, where two major interstates merge and then divide, that traffic comes to a frustrating crawl. It’s there that I first noticed the little sapling. Tucked away under the guard rail, in an area where it clearly didn’t belong, a tiny, fragile sapling was growing.
After seeing it for the first time, I made it a special point to look for it every time we drove past it. For a long time, it grew slowly, with barely perceptible changes. Each week, as we headed to church and approached that section of the road, I would wonder if the crews who mowed the grass and kept that section of the road maintained had finally cut my little sapling down. Each week, it stood strong. I counted each week it survived a minor miracle.
This went on for years. From time to time, I would comment about the little sapling to my family. They were not as impressed or interested in this random plant as I was. Of the two reactions, theirs was clearly the more logical. To this day, I don’t really know why this little sapling fascinated me so much. But it did so I continued to watch it grow, delighting that it somehow was thriving right next to this very busy section of interstate in Nashville. More surprising is that it was allowed to stay, even after it had grown taller than the guard rail. I was sure it would be chopped down once that happened, but it didn’t.
Eventually, this sapling grew to around 3 feet in height, not to mention its trunk had grown strong and thick. Leaves sprouted and branches bloomed. Inexplicably, it continued to avoid the execution squad, though once it had grown to a certain height, I knew it was not long for the world. At some point, it was going to be considered a nuisance and hazard for drivers and the highway crews were going to remove it. But until that day came, I was going to enjoy watching it grow and defy the odds. At the risk of sounded melodramatic, this sapling brought me a lot of joy.
One Sunday, as we drove to church, I looked to find my sapling gone. Well, that is not completely accurate. They didn’t rip it out of the ground by its roots. The road crews simply chopped it down a few inches below the bottom of the guard rail. I didn’t shed any tears, it was a random sapling after all, but I did feel sad about the whole thing. I had hoped that it would remain unnoticed by any who wished to do it harm. My hopes were not realized. That little glimmer of joy near the end of my commute to church every Sunday was gone.
I have no idea how many people drove past that sapling every day. I would assume it was in the thousands. Of those, I wonder if I am the only person who really noticed the sapling, or if there were others like me who noticed it growing early in its life and cheered for it to keep straining for the heavens.
It’s possible that I am the only one, though I think that is rather unlikely. I am odd, but I don’t think I am that odd. My sapling-watching friends might be small in number, but I like to think we chose wisely. In a manner of speaking, I felt almost compelled to watch this little sapling. In the grand story of life, that little plant wouldn’t even register as a footnote. But it flourished where it was, as harsh and unwelcoming as an environment could be. And it brought me joy every week I saw it.
No, this little sapling didn’t change the world, and no songs or poems will be written about it, but it did exactly what it was created to do. It went unnoticed by most, with a doubt. And I guess in those terms, its life was rather pointless. Yet for the few of us who did notice it, it was a beautiful, celebratory reminder of what really matters in life. There is little we can control in our lives. Instead of straining and fighting for things that we cannot change, let us sink our roots deep, reach for the heavens, and bring joy to as many people as we can.
The last time we drove to church, the stump of the sapling, looking more like a small tree than a sapling at this point, was starting to bud and grow again. My joy was rekindled.
As for you, brothers, do not grow weary in doing good.
2 Thessalonians 3:13
- Whiteheart Retrospective – Part 12: Redemption - August 28, 2024
- Whiteheart Retrospective – Part 11: Inside - August 21, 2024
- The Happy Little Sapling - August 16, 2024
A story and a symbol of life. An illustration of God watching out for something small. As Gloria Gaither says “life wins.” Thanks, Phill.
We need more saplings for more commutes to be less terrible.