Devo 36
2/6/01
Change of format this week folks. Instead of preaching, I thought I'd put the message in story form. Those of you who attend Real Time at Berean on Thursday will recognize where I got the idea.
"The Apple Tree"
A cool shade spread beneath the spacious apple tree. A gentle breeze tickled through the verdant leaves and teased at the branches causing an apple to fall to the ground below. The apple fell at the feet of an old man walking up to the tree. He gingerly bent over to pick up the apple, and straightening, rubbed it briskly on his shirtsleeve. Exhaling a little moisture onto the ruby surface he polished it to a gleam. Examining it closely, a smile spread across the old man's face, not even the wrinkles of age being able to hold it back.
"Marvin! It's time to leave!" The old man cocked his head to listen, the smile only spreading. Casting a long look up the stout trunk and ample branches of the apple tree, the man turned around and, a little more spryly, left the shade of the apple tree and joined his wife.
"What do suppose it is?" The woman held the small box in front of the infant resting on her breast. The infant squirmed slightly and brought a tiny fist up to his mouth, squeezing his eyes tight; he shook slightly as his mother laughed. The wrapping came off easily, and the box inside opened readily. With slightly worn fingers the woman drew an apple out of the box. "An apple?"
The old man at the side of the bed, his arm around the shoulders of the old woman beside him, still hadn't lost the boyish grin. "It's inside the apple!"
The woman drew her eyebrows together, "The core?"
"No. The seeds!" He smiled broadly first at his wife, then at his son-in-law, then finally at the infant now asleep. The old man came alongside the hospital bed and sat on the edge taking the apple in his hands. "When I was born, my grandfather planted an apple tree in the backyard of my parent's house. 'By the time this young-one is my age,' he said, 'this little tree will be the largest and proudest tree in the whole neighborhood.'"
The woman on the bed gently pulled the old man closer to herself and kissed him on the cheek, "Thank you Dad."
Patting his daughter on the head the old man stood back up. "Well, we'd better let them get their rest." Taking his wife by the arm, and giving a hug to his son-in-law, the old couple left the room.
A small sapling stood from the ground; young and supple, it had only just sprouted a tiny leaf. The sapling was suddenly engulfed in a wavering shadow and then forced to the ground as a toddler fell upon it. The toddler rolled to his side and onto his hands and knees; the sapling, now free, sprung upright as though nothing had happened.
"John! He did it! He did it! Come quick!" The toddler was whisked into the arms of his very excited mother.
"What happened?" A hint of concern edged the man's voice as he approached his wife, closely looking at his son in her arms.
"He was walking!" She held the small boy in front of her face, eyes wide, smile full. "Little Jacob was walking!"
The concern vanished from the man's face, "Just now?"
"Yes." The woman glanced to the side, "Here. Stand over there and call him." The beaming father quickly rushed several paces away.
"John, that's too far away." She knelt down with the little boy and placed his feet in the grass and held him steady. She looked up to her husband now much closer, "Ready?"
He nodded and held out his arms and locked eyes with his son. "Come here Jacob!" The toddler stuck out a leg and awkwardly lurched forward. He paused, balancing, then took another step. A goofy grin appeared on the toddler's face as he saw his father looking at him, and he again lurched forward into his father's arms.
The shadow of a young tree fell across the couple and their son as they embraced beside the car in the driveway; a duffel bag on the young man's shoulder. A bird sang from the swaying branches. "You sure you don't want your mother there with you?" The woman brushed a wisp of hair out of her face with a roughened and worn finger.
The young man in front of her smiled in the same lopsided way that his father did. "Mom, I'll be fine. I'll call as soon as I get to the dorms." He shifted his duffel bag onto the other shoulder and looked at the car behind him and then at his watch. He stretched out his hand and took his father's in a firm grip. "Take care." The words came simultaneously as did the grins. Swallowing, the young man turned and stepped into the car, and slowly pulled out of the driveway.
Under the spreading leaves of the young tree, man and wife embraced as they watched their son slowly fade down the road.
Lightning flashed casting the silhouette of a grown tree upon the bedroom wall. A loud crash followed by the onerous roll of thunder caused the couple to rise from their bed. The woman went to look out the window, and after the next flash of lightning, raised a hand to her mouth. "Oh, John."
The man put his arm around his wife as he joined her at the window. In the next flash of light he could see the grown tree in the front yard—now with a jagged rip along its middle. Thunder rolled, the phone rang. The couple exchanged a glance and the man picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Dad? You've gotta come now," the voice was feminine, his daughter-in-law's, "it's Jacob!"
The skies were gray outside; a steady wind blew causing the trees to bounce languidly about. The man and his wife stood over the bed before them looking down into their son's drawn face. There was little to recognize there, the cheeks were sunken and the eyes which had just now opened seemed to be gazing from a deep well.
The woman sat on the edge of the bed and took her son's hand in her own, tracing her fingers around the gold band encircling the fourth finger. She looked across the bed to the woman sitting there holding the other hand, a diamond standing forth from her left hand. "Jacob..." That was all she could manage. Her husband put his arm around her shoulder and she buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shook as she tried to hold in the sobs.
The creak of the door caused the woman to suddenly sit up straight and start rubbing the tears from her eye. The nurse introduced herself to the couple and the other woman. "Your son," and turning to the woman, "your husband, is lucky to be alive. Unfortunately the hardest part is yet to come." The nurse paused and looked down at the clipboard in her hands. "With the level of drugs we found in his system, withdrawal will be hell, and it could last a couple of weeks." Only now did she look up. "Now, we can move him to the de..."
"Ma'am," the mother stepped forward, "we've talked it over already, and we'd like for Jacob to come stay with us as he goes through this."
Her husband joined her, "It's the home he grew up in, and we feel it's the best place for him right now."
Looking through a haze of red and a pulsating headache, the man looked through the window of the room that he grew up in. The front yard outside his window was ringed by a well-trimmed hedge. In one corner of the lawn was a small pond surrounded by rocks of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Beneath a covering of lily pads, small goldfish could sometimes be seen poking at the surface. Extending away from the pond lay a flower garden; immaculate in its upkeep and without compare when in full bloom. His mother's life work. He looked to the center of the yard where the apple tree stood. Already the leaves and blooms on one side of the tree had begun to wither and die; a blanket of blossoms prematurely fallen lay beneath that side of the tree.
A ladder appeared against the tree, and the man watched as his mother began climbing, holding onto the rungs with one hand, and in the other hand carrying a saw. The woman approached the ugly gash in the tree, and with resolute firmness placed her saw against the wood of the dying half of the tree. With surgeon's care, the woman lined up her cut, and with only a slight hesitation, bit deep into the dying wood.
The sound of sawing filled the man's room. The red haze deepened and the headache increased, his blood turned to fire. The gnawing in his stomach grew, his bones seemed to strain at the joints threatening to break loose at any moment. The sensations, the pain, were overwhelming and he yelled out in agony as he had never before.
Out in the yard, even over the rasping of the saw, the woman could hear the anguished cries of her only son. The tears came freely, but the saw only moved the faster for it.
Under the shade of a large apple tree in full bloom a man stood with his wife, his son and soon to be daughter-in-law. In his hand, and in the hand of his wife were two small urns. The man looked up at the apple tree. The scar from the lightning strike all those years ago was still visible, but had since become nearly completely hidden beneath tens of tiny shoots and branches, some growing quite large and already producing apples of their own. The man then looked over to the house and the window that opened into his room. His knuckles whitened as his grip tightened on the urn; the pain, the torment he had felt in there still remained vivid. His eyes then fell on his son walking with his fiancee through the garden. Their arms were interlocked as the young woman knelt before a rose bush and cupped a blossom in her palm.
The man's wife placed a hand on her husband's shoulder and he smiled at her with that crooked smile of his. He knew beyond a doubt, and had told himself every day, that without the woman now at his side, and the pain of the room up above, his life would have ended before it had really begun.
"Are you ready Jacob?"
"Yeah." Their son and his fiancee looked up as the couple entered the garden and removed the tops from the urns. As they sprinkled the ashes over the garden, a small breeze drifted through loosening a shower of petals from the apple tree which fell to mix with the ashes on the flower bed. The man put his arm around his wife, the son put his arm around his fiancee, and all sat beneath the apple tree, talking, laughing, and crying together.
A cool shade spread beneath the spacious apple tree. Underneath stood an old man staring up at its heavy-laden branches. It was hard for him to imagine that at one time, this proud tree had once been a skinny sapling no higher than his knee. The scar from the lightning was still there, but he wondered if it would be visible to anyone who didn't know where to look. The old man closed his eyes as he placed his wrinkled hands against the rough bark. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost make himself believe he could feel a strong, rhythmic pulse surging from root to leaf. The wind shook the branches; an apple feel at his side. Gingerly, the old man leaned over and picked it up, rubbing it briskly across his shirt sleeve. Soon the apple gleamed; a priceless ruby. As he looked at it, a smile spread across his face undeterred by the wrinkles and creases there.
"Jacob! It's time to leave!" The old man cocked his head to listen, his smile only spreading at the sound of his wife's voice. Placing the apple in the little box he had brought with him, he cast one last look at the majestic tree. Then turning, and stepping with a little more spring, the old man joined his wife.