The tree had been dead for quite some time I imagine. Maybe longer than the five years we’ve lived in this house. Its trunk decayed to the point where I may have simply stomped the remains into the ground.

Life has been interesting lately. Troubling. Worrisome. The uncertainty of the United States economy is largely to blame as is the state of war and prosecution. This evening I made a run to the local ice cream spot to pick up a couple of banana splits for the girls, their mother and I to share. I had NPR on the radio and as I made the five minute trip back home the story being relayed was of a village in the Congo that had all but six members of their community murdered. Viciously murdered. The women and girls had been raped and killed and the men and boys were forced into a kneeling position with their head on the ground as their attackers kicked in their skulls to the point their brains were spilling onto the ground. In the bushes one of the six survivors watched, unable to take his eyes from the scene as these events were unleashed upon his family. His elders. His wife. His children.

It wasn’t a small tree but not too big either. Its circumference likely in the sixteen to eighteen inch neighborhood. I found myself glancing at it occasionally as I moved through the woods alongside our property collecting limbs and other branches that had fallen through the course of the winter. My plan is to create some paths in these woods for the girls to have their nature walks as soon as the days are warmer longer. First things first, all these fallen branches and trees would have to be cleared away.

The weeks of late have been ridiculously long in the office. The position I’m in requires me to see each and every termination request issued throughout the company. There have been so many. I know the times have dictated much of this, or rather brought it to light. I like to think we, those employed by companies in the United States, will come out of this stronger. As individuals we may take less for granted. We might learn again those principles that our parents and grandparents knew. That an honest days work should equal an honest days pay. That skating through a job and never adding any value means you won’t last long. That running lean is more than the result of a gym membership.

This wooded area is largely cleared now. Several mounds of dead wood the evidence of the time spent clearing this small section of land. If I had to guess I’d say this cleared area is some 50 yards long by 30 yards wide. It’s a small start but a start nonetheless. All that remains in this space is that one big tree. As I mentioned, I could likely stomp it into the ground. Turn it all into mulch and be done with it. I just can’t bring myself to do it. I think it’s the resulting noise that’s so unappealing. Instead I plan on picking up as much as I can. Hoping to keep it in one piece and place it atop the closest pile.

We, my wife and I, do as much as we can to shield our children from the concerns that surround us. The small children that is. For the older two the concerns are theirs just as much as they are ours. With one entering college in the fall and the other high school, they are very aware of where we are as a nation. We talk about what things may look like when the worst is behind us and how important it is for us learn from this. We discuss how living within ones means does not have to mean living without. We are careful to weigh with them the wants of the world versus the needs of the individual. The needs of our family.

Getting underneath the tree was the difficult part. It required rolling it back and forth a few times until I could find a place close to the middle that wasn’t so tender it would collapse upon lifting. I bent my knees and worked my hands underneath the tree, feeling the cold wet leaves and dirt work between my fingers. While I slowly stood, measuring with my arms the weight of the tree on either side, I heard the patio door slide open.

The tree was a little heavier than I thought though not more than I could handle. As I began walking toward one of my man made monoliths of slight proportions I could hear the footsteps of a quickly approaching child. This was shortly followed by the sweet sound of a four year old girl exclaiming, “Daddy! You are the strongest Dad ever!”.

I smiled. In this moment I believed it. I was the strongest Dad ever.

God bless perspective.