“Good morning, son! I am so glad you are home the week before Passover. I have some orders to finish up and was wondering if you could help me this morning.”
“Yes Papa! I can give you a hand. What would you like me to do?”
“See those large logs over there in the corner of the shop? We need to square them off into wooden beams.”
The small woodworking shop is a family owned shop in Israel with plenty business in the city of Jerusalem. Tables, chairs, doors, cabinets, desks, and furniture are normal everyday customer orders. But this week’s order includes the making of large wooden beams for the Roman government.
With hammer and chisel in hand, the carpenter’s son begins to chip away at the logs as requested by his father. Clang. Clang. Clang. As he goes to work on the dead logs in his hands, he contemplates the life and value of this tree planted in love thirty-three years ago.
Growing up in a place that is known for religion, who would have imagined that life would come to this? Modern day justice requires an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, could this tree help make all of that moot? Once strong and sturdy, full of life and shade, is there any value in what this dead tree has already made?
When alive, it provided shelter for many as protection from the storms of life. For others, it was nothing more than a tree, as they walked right on by, blinded in their sight. Gentle and humble in strength, day after day, this tree has grown up, little by little, just to give its life away.
“How’s it coming son? Are you ready for a break? Your mother has cooked some lunch for us!”
“Ok, Papa. I’ll be right there.”
After having lunch with his Papa, the carpenter’s son gets back to work.
Clang. Clang. Clang. He reflects once more on the life of this tree he has come to love and know.
Laughing and giggling, innocent children always loved to climb up in its branches, finding life full of adventure and sweet romances. So many adults have longed for the same, but life has been a game with no second chances. Little did they know that old or young, bald or grey, this tree embraced all and never turned away.
A subtle breeze would blow through its leaves and forecast each change in season. Although the wind could never be seen, this tree and its branches would sway for this reason. Perched high up in a nest, early each morning, a gentle dove wooing would softly announce the sun as it was dawning. Even as a little child would swing on a swing, life twirling all around, this tree was always safe because its roots grew deep into the ground.
“Son, how’s it coming in there? Are you finished yet? We don’t want to keep the king waiting!”
“Yes Papa. I am finished and the cross beams are ready.”
Clang. Clang. Clang. In My Father’s house, I go to prepare a place for you!
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