GOD’S
T
TREES b y Helen Frazee-Bower
4
F ar away on a hillside grew a forest of trees: little ones and big ones, old ones and young ones, tall ones and short ones— all grew together. When the summer days came, they laughed in the warm sun light, and found life good; when the spring rains splashed on their shining leaves, they laughed too, for the rain was cool and silver and lovely; when the first autumn days caused their leaves to turn to red and gold, they rejoiced in the gorgeous display of color; and when winter wrapped a blanket of snow about their bare limbs, they found life more beauti ful than ever, in the white, glistening stillness. The trees were very happy with life just as it was on the hillside, but sometimes, too, they spoke of changes that would come. They talked of the things they would like to do and be when they grew up— just as chil dren do. One little tree said, “ You know, I should like to be a baby’s cradle. I have seen people come into this forest. Sometimes they come carrying babies in their arms. I think a baby is the sweetest thing I have ever seen. When I am older, I should like to be made into a bed for a baby.” Then a second tree spoke: “ That would not please me at all. I want to be something more important than that. I think I should like to be a great ship and cross many waters. I should like to be large and DECEMBER, 1970
strong and stately. I should like to be loaded with cargoes of gold and silver and precious jewels.” The Mother Tree grew troubled. “ Pride,” she said, “ is a dangerous thing. I hope your wish will not bring you sorrow.” One little tree stood off by itself, apparently in deep reflection, but he did not speak. “ What would you like to be?” asked the Mother Tree. “ Have you no dreams for the future?” “ No dreams," he answered, “ Except to stand on a hillside and point to God. What could a tree do better than that?” The Mother Tree looked at him fondly. “ What indeed?” she said. Years passed and the trees grew up. One day men came to the forest and cut down the first little tree. “ I wonder whether I shall be made into a baby’s cradle now. I hope so. I have waited so long," he whispered. But the little tree was not made into a cradle. Instead, it was hewn into rough pieces and carelessly put together to form a manger in a stable in Bethlehem. The little tree was heartbroken. “ I do not like this at a ll!" he wailed. "This is not what I planned, to be shoved into this dark cave (for that was what the stable really was) with no one to see me but the cattle.” But God, who loves little trees, 13 * * *
v
►
f I
r
Made with FlippingBook - Online Brochure Maker