Nine-year-old Milton Trent, after seeing and hearing the tug-of-war his little neighbors were having with an old ornamental tree and how it came out, walked back to his mother and sister Velma in their garden.
“The Ludlows said thank you, and you know, they don't have strawberries but they have a strawberry tree they just found.”
Then he told his mom and sister the whole story, including what Capt. Ludlow had told his three little grandsons about knowing the difference between a weed and a tree, and what they could do versus what was right to do.
“You know,” 11-year-old Velma said, “they would have been pulling on that thing until the sun went down. Trees are like icebergs – there's at least as much beneath as there is above.”
“Well, consider this – suppose they had done it?” Mrs. Trent said. “The most terrible thing in the world is to succeed in doing the wrong thing.”
Milton had a thought.
“Remember that time I decided I wanted to get back into that favorite shirt I had when I was six?”
Mrs. Trent smiled.
“Who could forget it, Milton? You got back into it all right, and then what happened?”
“I got stuck!” Milton said.
“I thought you were never going to stop crying when Mom had to cut it off of you,” Velma said.
“So, that's what happens to people in the world, Milton and Velma,” Mrs. Trent said. “People want what they want and don't really care if it is right or wrong – but then, if it is wrong, they get stuck, and either stay stuck or they hurt a lot when God has to come and cut them out of it, because they lose it all anyway.”
Milton considered this.
“I imagine God must sound a lot like Capt. Ludlow when he said, 'Hello, boys,' to Robert, Grayson and George, trying and trying to pull that tree down.”
“You're right,” Mrs. Trent said. “I read it every morning in the Psalms, 'As a father pities his children, so the Lord pities them that fear Him.' He knows we don't always know we're on the wrong track, and comes to our rescue with love, oftentimes before the trees of life fall down on us.”
“You know, Mom,” Velma said, “I hadn't even thought about that. Even little trees are kinda heavy when you're a little kid, and dead trees come down if you just look at them wrong.”
“Yeah, and Robert almost killed himself the other week as it is, trying to use his grandfather's dumbbell as a barbell,” Milton said. “Just had his whole Olympic champion pose together before Capt. Ludlow got there and snatched it before Robert's little arms couldn't get that thing down without hitting his head!”
Mrs. Trent chuckled.
“Y'all see why parents and grandparents need God to pity us too?” she said. “There are ten of y'all under age 12 around here, school is out until whenever, it's summer any way, there's no place to go because of Covid, and we adults still only have two ears and two eyes and are trying to figure out how did we get into this situation and how do we get ourselves and y'all out of it and there are no easy answers – a lot of adults out here are tugging on trees that may fall on them in addition to trying to keep an eye on all the kids. We just trust the Lord and do the best we can, just like y'all children are learning to do.”
“Hey, y'all!” 11-year-old Eleanor Ludlow said as she popped up at the edge of the Trent garden. “Mrs. Ludlow said thanks again and that you should try these strawberry tree fruits – Grandpa has picked the early ones and they are really good! We're going to water ours and see if we can get more fruit off of it next month, and if we can, Grandpa says we might do a limited soda flavor, so please tell Sgt. Trent!”
“Hey, thanks a million – I wanted to see what these were like, but didn't know if I should ask!” Milton said as he went to get the little basket while Eleanor backed up.
“Yeah, Grandma figured that out!” Eleanor said. “See y'all later!”
“God is good,” Velma said to her mother. “He manages to bless us and the soda drinkers of the world through things we would have torn down.”
“Yes, ma'am, He does,” Mrs. Trent said. “Things and people, even.”