I’m enjoying a slow morning at The Compound. At least, slow by our tribe’s standards. Most of the kids are still asleep. As I sit on a little wicker loveseat in our bedroom, I hear grandma in the kitchen talking to the twins, who are no doubt sitting in their high chairs dropping breakfast on the floor. The sun streams through our bedroom windows and birds chirp to one another, asking “Is it really November?”
Near the southwest corner of the house stands a row of mismatched trees. Most of them are smaller and of unknown variety. Four or five are tall Poplar trees, each taller than the old two story house, narrow, and quite dead. One stands less than fifteen feet from the corner. Were it to fall – or rather, when it falls – it holds enough potential energy to drop through the roof of my mom’s studio apartment and probably tear that entire portion of the house off.
This would not be good.
The trees are not just unsightly. They’re a danger…and they they have an attitude.
They stare at me every day when I pull into the cul-de-sac, whispering “some day, goof ball. Some day we will take avenge the wooden bretheren that were destroyed to make this house by giving our all to crush it like some great tree martyrs….”. I lay in bed at night in fear of hearing shouts of “Knothole Akbar!”
And what the trees say would be true…except for the one thing they don’t know. Today, we get a visit from the Lumberjack Angels.
God’s given us some amazing friends. In particular, amazing friends with some killer chainsaws. These friends had a little meeting the other day…walking The Compound and, like friends do, deciding “If we don’t help these poor people out now, we’ll end up needing to build them another house….”, so they made an executive lumberjack decision.
Those trees are coming down. Today.
Previous commitments have Kelsey and I away from the house. They didn’t care. Actually, they know my work history and they may have selected this time with that in mind. Whatever the case, they didn’t ask. They’re just going to do. It’s what my friend Andie calls a do-ocracy. They see what needs to be done and they’re going to make it happen.
I’d heard talk about it but the first direct contact I had was yesterday when one called to ask where I wanted the firewood stacked. Unbelievable. Where does God find people like this? And when He does, He sent them to us?! Amazing.
God, bless the Lumberjack Angels today. And dead Poplar trees, mockers be warned…you are destined for the fire.
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