Planting Trees for Others
My wife and I recently returned from a week spent in Voyageur’s National Park, located on the border of northern Minnesota and Canada. It is a breathtakingly beautiful place with the unique claim that it is the only National Park that must be accessed via the water. Motors are allowed in this 225,000-acre park, and everyone must enter in a boat. Many people enter in fishing or pontoon boats, while some prefer to enter by canoe or kayak. People who want to stay awhile can camp in sites scattered over 55 miles of park shoreline.
We had the good fortune to rent a houseboat for the week we spent in Voyageurs. Each day we would move to a different sand beach and tie up for the night. Campfires on the beach and unparalleled views of the night skies were balms for our tired souls. We lost count of how many bald eagles we saw, including the awe of numerous occasions where we saw them swoop down and take fish right out of the water. One night we moored right next to a tall grove of trees where a large group of eagles slept. We discovered this when at 4:30 the following morning, we were awakened by their loud screeching as they greeted the coming dawn. While I wouldn’t want to experience this every morning, I am beyond grateful that I got to experience it this one time.
I love the history of places, and so between a visit to one of the park’s visitor’s stations (accessible by water, of course) and some further reading, I learned that a large group of people worked for decades to fight to create this park. After almost fifty years of work, they finally succeeded in 1975 to officially establish the park.
While enjoying some quiet time in the park, I wrote in my journal an expression of gratitude to those who had worked so hard to protect the sacred space that we were currently enjoying. Their work was a true gift to us, and even though we will never be able to thank them directly we gave thanks for their efforts.
During my quiet time, the quote above came to mind: “The true meaning of life is to plant trees under whose shade you do not expect to sit.” While the people who worked to establish Voyageurs may not have planted the trees we were sitting under, they fought to preserve the space, thus creating the possibility for us to be there.
As I get older, I think more about metaphorically planting trees under whose shade I do not expect to sit. How can I show up and give back to my friends, family, and community in ways that will, in some small manner, create a space for others to experience well-being they may not have experienced otherwise? I’m now thinking about how I can do this with my words, my actions, giving of time or money, and getting involved in supporting causes, communities, and institutions that will live on long after I am gone.
We have learned this past year a half how interdependent we all are and how the choices we make can affect people we may never know.
I’ll close by simply asking you to join me in reflecting upon the question, how are you and I planting trees under whose shade we do not expect to sit?
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