The Tree of Life

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I spent a lot of time looking inward, reflecting on my life, and life in general.  I spent many hours on the chaise lounge in my back yard, recovering from surgeries, resting after radiation, managing fatigue.  I enjoyed looking up at the sky, watching the clouds drift by, letting time march forward as I sat mindfully enjoying the nature around me.

My neighbors had a tree in their front yard.  A stately elm that stretched and wiggled its roots under the powerful growth of this tree.  I could see this tree from my chaise in my back yard.  It reached up over the homes and kept an eye on me as I lay pondering life.

I came to love this tree.  It reminded me of a tree that stood over the driveway of my grandparent's farm home.

As years passed, I watched the tree grow.  As years passed, we watched a lesion in my liver grow.  I began to notice that one particular branch poked out above the others.  I could gauge the stability of my liver lesion based on the growth of this tree limb.  For an entire year, there was little change. Then suddenly, a growth spurt.  The limb grew further out from the tree and my liver lesion grew as well. We biopsied my liver, and even though the results were benign, my doctors kept an eye on my liver and I kept an eye on my tree. I began to call it my Tree of Life.

When I would walk by my Tree of Life, I would touch it and smile.  It had looked over me and I loved it in return. In 2011, the city came through and marked the tree.  The markings meant that the tree needed to be removed because of disease.  I began to cry... I continued to cry.  I knew it was the end of life for my Tree of Life, and the disease would soon ravage the tree. But I  was selfish, I wondered what I would do without my natural compass? It was odd, but I felt a little lost knowing I would soon be without it.

On the day they cut down the tree, I stopped and talked with the Woolsons, my neighbors whose house had been shaded by this stately tree.  Surely they had as much emotional investment in this tree as I did.  I told them my story and how I came to call the beautiful specimen My Tree of Life.  We stood together as the tree was cut down.  Slowly, I walked home feeling like I had lost an old friend.

This past month I turned 50.  While we were in Chicago celebrating my birthday my family decorated our front yard, and suddenly my whole neighborhood learned it was my birthday.  A week later, I came home to find a gift bag at our front door.  Inside the bag were two wrapped items.  I opened the card, it was a birthday card from "Your Tree of Life" (and the Woolsons).  Bewildered, I opened the first gift and my mouth fell open and my heart flooded with joy.  It was a beautiful cutting board with inlaid pieces that curved softly to the edges. "No Way!" I said with wonder as I felt the wood in my hands. "This cannot be!"  I tore open the wrapping on the second package and found an exquisite box, about the size of a shoe box.  Inside were 8 glass jars, waiting to be filled with spices, or jewelry, or precious mementos.

I knew instantly that my tree had come back to me, that these gifts were made from the tree by Paul Woolson, a luthier by trade.  http://woolsonsoundcraft.com/About/about.htm

I am overwhelmed that the Woolsons remembered my story and took the time to make something special for me from a tree that meant so much to me. These pieces were masterfully handcrafted by Paul and I am blessed by his generosity, his artistry, and his kindness.

My heart is full of joy. It makes me want to lay on the chaise in my back yard and think about life.