If Fathers Behaved as Trees

When I hear the word fathers I think of trees.  Perhaps because  I see in trees so many of the finest qualities all great fathers share.

The obvious, their strength and sturdiness.  A tree will bear all things thrust upon its branches without an uttered word of complaint. Reaching limbs will hold a person up, supporting him throughout days and nights.

A tree is rooted where it stands.  One never needs to glance repeatedly out a window to be sure it hasn't walked away.  It is planted firmly.  It is always there.  Its form may sway with the wind, but it never falters.

A tree is dependent upon sunlight; therefore, its majestic form reaches toward Heaven for nourishment.  It does not hide its need for the light, but flourishes beneath the sun for all eyes to see.

A tree bears fruit to feed others, even though it is unable to partake of the fruit itself.  It complains to no one.  And if called upon to sacrifice itself entirely in order to warm and protect another, it does so without a word of protest.

Trees shade and protect.  They shield us from the elements. I have never seen a child fear a tree, but smile up at its grandness, eager to climb into its arms and see the world from a higher viewpoint.

One can talk to trees without interruption or reprisal.  All secrets remain in a tree's confidence despite the passing of many generations.  

Out of all God's creations, I admire most the quiet creatures we call grand, majestic, beautiful trees.

"How wonderful our world would be
if fathers all behaved as trees." — Richelle E. Goodrich