Falling Trees

     A tree almost fell on my car. Nothing life-threatening; nothing while I was driving, but I almost parked in my usual spot at home last evening, and in the middle of the night a Bradford Pear tree in the front yard decided to split from the rest of the Bradford gang.

Actual Front Yard Footage

      To sweeten the situation, I almost, ALMOST, parked in my usual spot, but last-minute was like “Nah, I’ll pull up into the driveway instead.” I’m glad I did, because I might not have a side mirror or windshield in my car right now. I’m lucky, right? I want to bask in this thought for a while, because the last few days I’ve been feeling anything but lucky.

    

     I am guessing you know how these things go. Sometimes feelings of being less fortunate than others can sneak in stealthily, and sometimes hand-in-hand with the sulky tear-stained face of self-pity. Often these feelings come because of circumstances, or simply because we left the back door unguarded and wide open.

     I’ve been reading a few books for the literature class I’m teaching this Fall. One of them is The Horse and His Boy by C.S. Lewis. Reading through it again, I am reminded why it is one of my favorite books. I will try not to give it all away if you’ve never read it before, but one of my favorite parts in this book is when one of the main characters, Shasta, is riding through some fog on a horse, and he is thinking about how unfortunate he is. A majority of what he sees as misfortune were encounters with numerous lions throughout the long journey that he has just taken. In the middle of this fog he encounters Aslan, the Christ figure in the book (who also happens to be a lion), and the conversation he has with Aslan changes everything. Shasta realizes that he has not encountered many lions along the way, but one, Aslan, and all for important reasons. During this time Aslan walks with Shasta through the fog, and the next morning when the weather clears and Aslan is gone, the boy realizes he had been walking along the edge of a cliff, and it was the lion who kept him from careening over the edge. You could say he was a lucky boy, or you could simply say it was Aslan in his life all along.

I'm not going to attribute the tree limb missing my car to luck. I want to be as wise as Shasta, and realize that lions are not always what they appear to be.