You can’t beat a good tree. In Tottenham we lived near the Seven Sisters – seven great elm trees which gave their name to this part of London (how it has changed over the years) and in my new home in Hartley Wintney I love to walk throughout the Mildmay Oaks (in a place which has hardy changed over the years…) Next week I will be walking along the North Cornish coast where trees and shelter will be in short supply then returning via Wales to Hampshire to explore the next part of my journey..
The above picture was taken was on Dartmoor on Easter Saturday as I was reflecting on the experience of banging nails into a (thankfully) empty cross at Sheldon in Devon. It was just wood, just an empty cross, but hitting those nails into that tree got me thinking, got me praying and got me thanking God for the many privileges I have had. Whether the wood in my parent’s loft, where I ran the model railway for years and years, the wood of my son’s first cricket bat, or the wood of the chalets I lived in in the French Alps, there is something good and wholesome and solid about wood. I hate to see a tree fallen and don’t much enjoy the routine of chopping up logs for the fire but I rejoice in the abundance of “good wood” in and around my life. Those stable enduring shelters which make life all the more bearable. They may be places, they may be particular people, they may be communities, they may be friends.
So this Easter Sunday I rejoice that the tree is empty, that the tombstone has been rolled away and that Christ is risen.
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