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The Fallen Tree
Last autumn, after living in our home for more than 15 years, we finally decided to rearrange our front yard. The goal was to create more space for our cars and make the entrance to the house more convenient. To achieve this, we had to cut down a tree that had been there long before we moved into the neighborhood.
At the time, it seemed like a natural thing to do. I didn’t question it—this tree was in the way, and it posed a potential risk to the roof of the new garage.
So, we cut it down. The process took just 15 minutes.
Then it hit me. As the workers began chopping the trunk into smaller pieces, my husband asked if I could figure out how old the tree was. My father, a forest engineer, had taught me how to do this, so I started counting the rings on the trunk.
I counted 50 rings—and I hadn’t reached the end yet. This tree was more than 50 years old.
This tree had stood here for over half a century, enduring everything: drought, heavy rains, freezing winters, and scorching summers. Year after year, it grew stronger, adding new layers to its trunk.
And in just 15 minutes, we cut it down.
A wave of grief washed over me, and I began to cry. My heart broke and ached deeply. I approached the cut pieces of the trunk, placed my hands on them, and whispered my apologies. I was mourning—not just the loss of the tree, but the life it represented.
Through tears, I thanked the tree for its years of steadfastness, for the shade and greenery it provided us, and even for the firewood it would now offer for an open fireplace in our living room.
In that moment, I felt a profound sense of grace, peace, and love. My heart was broken, bleeding, and full of love at the same time. My eyes were overflowing with tears.
It was a true moment of awakening—one that left a lasting impact on me.
If this story touched you in any way, contact me. We can travel on the path of awakening together.