I am sad. Outside my office window lie the remains of a tree that is at least one hundred years old. It was cut down in the prime of its life. Branches are everywhere. Its leaves have already dried up and look brown. Why did this tree have to die?
My office-mates tell me the tree was infected by the Emerald Ash Borer, an Asian insect that was first detected in trees in Detroit, Michigan, in 2002. Since then, this beautifully colored bug has become the most destructive forest insect to ever invade the U.S. Tens of millions of ash trees have been killed.
Once an Emerald Ash Borer beetle finds an ash tree, it nibbles along the margins of of the tree’s leaves. After 15 to 20 days of leaf feeding, the females begin to lay a few eggs at a time, tucking them beneath bark flaps or in bark crevices. The tiny, cream-colored larvae hatch from these eggs in mid-summer and chew through the rough outer bark to reach a layer of inner bark, called phloem. Phloem is the tissue used by trees to transport carbohydrates and other nutrients. The larvae feed in s-shaped tunnels, called galleries, for several weeks. As the larvae grow, the galleries increase in size.
A few larvae, feeding in a large ash branch or on it’s trunk, have little effect on the tree. But as the density of larvae builds over time, the tree’s ability to transport nutrients and water is disrupted by the galleries. The canopy begins to thin, and large branches die. Eventually, the entire tree succumbs. (Info on the ash borer from americanforests.org.)
Looking at the enormous sections of that poor, dying ash, I wondered: if a tree that withstood tornadoes, lightning, rain, and frost for over a century can succumb to the burrowing needs of a tiny, invasive insect, what invasive entity can do the same to me?
It’s true that most illnesses are caused by invasive entities––microbes too tiny for the naked eye to see. But my question was of a more spiritual nature. What are the little things that nibble around the margins of life that eventually bore into my being, eating away at my soul?
I realized that the Emerald Ash Borer of my soul was unforgiveness. When I was a baby, my biological mother decided to place me in foster care. She appeared to drop all appearance of maternal care when it came to my life. Her carelessness caused me to feel unwanted, unworthy, and unloved—for a lifetime.
For years and years I tried not to let her behavior toward me bother me, tried to set aside the emotions that nibbled at my heart. Try as I might, though, seeds of hatred were planted within me. They grew and blossomed about a month before she passed away.
My mother was in an intensive care unit in a Chicago hospital. The medical team decided that of her ten children, I was the only one who could speak to them with respect and dignity. Therefore, they selected me as the person to whom they would communicate about her condition and her care. I would be the one to pass on the information to the rest of the family.
I spent several weeks carrying messages back and forth between my youngest brother and the hospital, coordinating my mother’s care. Finally, I became really angry. As I prayed, I complained to God about how unfair it was that I was extending more care to my mother than she ever extended to me. I went on about how angry I was that I was forced into this position. For two hours, I anguished over every hurt and every slight that had come to me from my mother, and the complete indifference toward me that she expressed most of the time.
Eventually a voice within me said, “Have you forgiven her?” It stopped up all my words. To be honest, my first response was, “Why should I?” Then, I only cried. In that moment, I asked the Spirit to help me let loose of the shame, anger, and hurt that had come to me through my mother. Those painful emotions had carved out a “gallery” in my soul, causing it to become sick and weak.
Unlike the tree I’ve loved at work, my soul could be healed. Since that time, I have been called by my siblings to conduct a sister’s funeral, to attend various family gatherings, and to try to become part of the family. It hasn’t been easy, but letting go of the gallery of hatred has helped.
The poor tree outside my window reminds me how important it is to be alert, to be mindful of the little hurts that nibble away at the outer extremities of my life, and to be willing to look at them honestly as soon as I discover them. I can’t afford to allow the seeds of destruction to block the stream of life within my soul.
As I reflect on my sadness over this once-beautiful tree, I realize—there but for the grace of God go I. I am sure I have more healing to invite and experience. For now, the fallen tree reminds me that I must let the Spirit of God keep working with me.
And, my Friends, God isn’t finished with me yet.
—Annie Glen
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