Naked Tree

At first, I didn't realize there was a naked tree on campus, standing between Garlock Dining Hall and the Library. When you are walking up the sidewalk, it looks like a fully leafed hardwood in the glorious yellow of autumnal splendor. It wasn't until I was practically on top of it that I saw the bare limbs brushing against the sky and that the beautiful yellow leaves actually belonged to its neighbor tree standing behind it.

It took me up short and I confess I stopped in mid stride, my head tilted to one side in puzzlement as I tried to discern which branches belonged to the naked tree and which to the gloriously colored tree. It was difficult to tell. And curious. So unusual that I glanced around as far as I could see, checking the other trees on campus for leaf coverage or lack thereof. No, every tree I could see had most of their leaves intact, sporting the most vivid reds, oranges, and yellows imaginable. Truly peak season if ever I have seen one.

Why was this one tree alone of all the trees on campus totally leafless? I can't imagine it has anything to do with location since its sister tree is fully leafed. Nor can it have anything to do with age since it is neither young nor old. Other trees of the same type were all still in leaf, and I could not discern any sign of insect infestation or fungi damage. Notwithstanding, the poor thing stands bereft of all vestiges of leafery despite being ensconced in the arms of another healthy tree.

I shall not solve this puzzle, but I find it a wonderful picture of what I experienced at the height of my cancer devastations. Though I cannot tell you why I got cancer, I can testify to the wonderful nurture and caring of my sisters - related and not - as I underwent a season of nakedness brought on by chemo, radiation, cancer, and distress. My caring friends and family wrapped their arms about me and sheltered me just as surely as the golden tree is sheltering the naked one.

No one truly saw my ugliness because of the amazing beauty surrounding me. It still touches me deeply to think of all the help, all the prayer, all the love poured out for me when I was naked and alone. By comparison, the cancer stuff I deal with these days is very mild. But I do brush elbows with those who are naked and alone. I pray that they have the same wonderful sisters I had, covering them with love.

Next spring, I expect the naked tree will once again be in full leaf, green and glorious and full of shade for the hot and weary. Just as I expect I will also be renewed and able to providing arms of comfort for others going through the wilderness.