When our first born, Michael, joined us…could it really be almost nine years ago (gasp), we planted a tree in the front yard to celebrate his arrival. His was a Japanese Bottle Brush Tree. He was just a few weeks old. As the tree was planted the little cheeks of my sweet little toe-head quickly grew pink in the sun. Still quite blond that head now reaches my chest and is most often seen racing off to the next ball game.
Just two and half brief years later we were blessed with a second strapping son, David. He was born in 2004, the year all the Hurricanes hit Florida, just a week after Francis and days before Gene. He was just days old when we put his White Orchid Tree in the ground. After weeks of severe storms, young David’s favorite place was close to the heartbeat of a loved one.
Last December our bouncing, bubbling baby boy, Nicholas, joined our now party of five. He came to us a week early on the Feast of St. Nicholas. This sweet surprise has a way of making an entrance. We decided to name him, Nicholas, shortly after Good Friday when we discovered that he was on his way. A future priest? From my mother’s lips to God’s ears. As sweet Nicholas becomes steady on his feet and takes his first steps we hasten to select and plant his tree.
If my yard was large enough I would plant a tree every time a loved one is sent down from heaven and again when they are called back to rest. Then I could listen to all my loved ones dance in the wind as they have danced in our hearts.