The Great Oak Tree

With all the junk going on in this world, I felt I should share this little story with you guys I wrote a few years back, I hope you enjoy it.

Terry

My life is really quite simple, as I am sure you soon will see. It began in a small hole in the earth in the hills of Georgia were God allowed me to fall and be nourished. My small patch of ground lay on a small hillside beside a shallow pond. I have been here so long, I have seen so much and I could do so little to help those who have crossed my path. When I was but a small tree, not much more than a seedling actually, I stood and watched a buggy come down the little clay road and stop by me. A minister got out of his buggy and tied his carriage to my limbs. I watched him and a small group of people walk out into the pond. I stood and listened to his words. “I baptize thee in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost” he said. I enjoy hearing people speak of the creator in such a manner. I watched the Angels standing close by as they rejoiced at each rebirth. I waved my branches as the buggy pulled away.
Many days I offered shade to the children of the nearby plantations and farms. I often saw a trio of boys come and rest beneath my limbs and fish. I enjoyed watching the two brothers and the third, I once heard called a slave, yet I saw no evidence. There did not appear to be slavery among these childhood friends. Many times as I grew taller I would see them come down to the pond to fish or to swim. Many times they used a rope hung on my branches to swing out with a cry of joy as they splashed into the cool water. In my bark their names were carved with the words “Friends for life”. I enjoyed their company and often sighed at their departure.
One warm spring day I was just enjoying the songs of the birds when they suddenly stopped. I heard angry voices from over the hill coming toward me. There were many musket shots fired and many men firing at each other. I did not understand what was going on but then I saw the brothers coming. One brother came and hid behind me while the other was across the field. The brother behind me was wearing gray clothes, as were the other boys with him. The brother across the field was wearing blue, as were the other boys with him. I at first thought they were here to play and fish but to my horror the bullets were piercing my bark as they imbedded in frail flesh of the brother behind my trunk. There was so much hatred between them, I wished I could stop them but at last there was a conclusion to this deadly game. The blood of one brother still stains my trunk to this day. I still shade my young friend, as I always will, along with the unmarked graves of the others in the gray and blue clothes. I felt no joy this day nor for the many days to follow. Many times I watched boys fall and become part of the earth. Many times I watched as the angels cried tearfully while perched upon my branches. I watched as many men in blue clothes burned the small town over the hill. I watched as many farm houses and plantations burned with fury to the ground in a path of total destruction. I heard man cry in anguish for the loss of their homes and the loss of their families. There was so much anger and so much hate during these days. For four long years I did not hear the birds sing or the deer frolic. I lifted my branches to heaven and waved at the Lord but he did not smile. He was not pleased. One day after a very bloody fight I saw the Lord on the field. He was bent over a small dying boy who had a drum around his neck. The boy was coughing and trying to get up and the Lord knelt down, held his hand and wept. This was the worst day of my life on the earth. I have often wondered how man can be so cruel, how he could treat life so casual without regard for the Creator of life.
Several years had past and I was again to many times enjoy the company of people around the little pond. My branches are now long, tall and magnificent. I watched as the city over the hill grew with taller buildings and more people. One day I stood in the sparkling sunlight when a black man came to rest beneath my shade. I enjoyed his company, as he lay back against my bark and fished. I saw far away up on the hill angry men coming toward my fishing friend. I knew it was danger and tried to rustle my branches to warn him, but he did not notice. These men took my black friend and called him harsh names. I knew when the Angles sat on my limbs, there was trouble. These white men took my young friend and tied a rope around his neck and threw it over my branch. I had tried so to let it break but it was a strong branch. I watched in horror as the black man wiggled and died, I watched as the angels wept and I saw the Lord once again walk to me and weep. I had hoped I would not see this hate of man again but I it was not to be. The rope marks are still in my bark and I still feel his weight upon my limb. For many years I watched that hate; as black and white men and women would come to my shade in their automobiles and baptize their members. Always separate from one another, always cold to one another, and always baptizing in the name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Ghost. I was even witness to a time when they argued who was at the pond first. I wanted to warn them of what I have seen but I could not so I sat in silence and watched. There were no angels today.
Many years have now gone by and I am old and some of my branches have decayed and fallen off. I am tired and I have seen so much in my life but today, I am in joy once again. Today many cars have come and parked beneath my massive branches and many people have gathered around the pond and me. I stand and listen and to my surprise many Angels come down and rest in my branches. They are so light I do not mind at all, I enjoy their company. I watch as the Lord comes up and leans against my bark, such a treat I have today. There are black people and white people, they are not angry, they are not fighting, they are not shooting muskets, but they are crying. I watch as two men wearing those blue and gray clothes exchange swords with one another. I hear them apologize for the crimes of their ancestors and then I watch them embrace. They then walk over to the black man and ask for his forgiveness as well to the conclusion of a heart felt embrace. There are two small choirs that now come together and sing in one accord. They do not see the third choir that forms in front of them, a choir of Angels that have joined them in praise to the creator. I am old and I have not many years to live on this earth but on this day I am blessed for I have seen my creator and his creation of man in one accord once again. I have witnessed the healing of his people and I have once again seen his shining face of joy and my life is complete. I am stooped over these days. I still have the bloodstain on my root, I still have the musket balls in my bark, I still feel the weight of a body on my branch, but I am content because I saw the Glory of God, and the healing of his creation man.

Written by Terry L. Richardson © Sept.22,1998
Trichar384@aol.com