There Isn't a Tree On My House

Before it was taken away Abigail and Simon had to climb it. And who could blame them?

It wasn't warm Sunday, but my parents were there to help. My dad is a forester and has been doing some sort of tree removal work for a while. Who better to get rid of an offending tree. My sister who has been coming to help us since we were married and her husband came to Uniontown for a livestock flea market and to help with the tree removal.

Stabilization Measures in Place; the Cutting Begins

All said and done I think we were outside for an hour to take care of all of it. Moving the toys. Watching the cutting happen. And carrying away the pieces.

Chilly Children Retreat to the House to Watch

We said good bye to the siblings who refused the lunch I skipped church to make. (OK I really skipped church because strep had invaded our home, but it sounds so much more guilt-inducing to say it that way.) We visited and napped and planned and said good-bye to parents who had come to get rid of a tree.

Now there is a birdbath to commemorate the event. Oh, and a scuffed shingle and a dented gutter. The possibilities for greater horror from a tree landing on one's home are numerous.

Sometimes I want to ask Why something is allowed to happen. As if God was absent from the scene or the cause of inconveniences and worse. But I think I am slowly learning to see His hand in What could have happened. Perhaps instead of searching for His reason in all things, I can see His hand in all things, protecting, preserving and I can know Him. His Hand and His Love. Then I can see all things worked for good (because somethings just aren't).