Our Hope Tree: Jesus Comes to Seek and Save What is Lost
Image ©2024 Sarah Murray
Six years ago, we moved from a home that we had lived in for 10 years, and where 5 of our six children had made the majority of their childhood memories to date. It was a home that we loved. It was a property that we loved. It was a life that we loved. It was simple. It felt stable. And yet, we felt God was calling us to a new place.
We moved to our new home. A beautiful home. A beautiful property. A beautiful everything about it, but roots run deep, and it took time for all of us to adjust to all the change we were experiencing living in a new home and a new community. It felt a little bit like life whiplash trying to settle into our new season.
That summer, my mother-in-law came to visit for several days. I remember being so mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted from the move that I gave myself permission to let go and let her be Nonna in whatever way that needed to look like.
When I think back on that time, I realize it was a blessing that I was so exhausted, because Nonna brought rhythm to days that had previously felt disorienting no matter how hard I tried. She is this beautiful, faithful woman, born and raised in Northern Italy, and an immigrant to our country who brings a culture and flavor to life that is very different from how I was raised. She brought her steady presence to the kitchen and delighted us with her Italian cooking. She played board games with the children. She read to them. She laughed. She drank coffee. She prayed with us. She prayed for us. She was present when it was hard for me to find my footing. She wasn’t replacing me, she was holding space for me, so I could eventually find that rhythm again, too.
The week she visited we went to a local nursery. Our family loves trees. Nonna was determined to buy us a tree for our new property. My husband grew up with two large sycamore trees in his yard. He often tells us stories of jumping from shade to shade in summers, playing outdoors with his little brother. Nonna, the children, and I determined that a sycamore tree to surprise Daddy was most fitting. We selected the tree and Nonna purchased it.
My husband was thrilled, for though we have many towering oaks and other varieties of trees on our property, we had not a single sycamore until Nonna made that special purchase. My husband planted the tree and we waited for it to grow. We have a perfect view of it from our bedroom window.
At first it thrived, but then storms came, deer came, and all manner of things began to rage against that tree. Not once, but three times the sycamore tree was beaten and broken to where it seemed beyond life and unable to bounce back. The third time the tree snapped in a storm, right at the base. It was during a particular season of life when we were experiencing life, health, and work sufferings that were especially challenging and painful and the breaking of the sycamore tree seemed a physical representation of how broken we felt in life.
But the sycamore tree was not dead. From its thick stump a tiny shoot began to grow. We were cautiously optimistic and yet overjoyed. We babied it. We watched it. We nurtured it. We did everything we could to protect it. Last year we pruned unnecessary shoots and turned it into a single, tall shoot about 5 feet tall in an attempt to get it to take off. It was risky, but we love trees, and it seems to be in our blood to want to nurture them.
It had been 2 years since the third fateful breakage, 2021, and 5 years since we had moved to our property in 2018.
This year, six years since the tree was purchased by Nonna, our sycamore tree is tall and strong, and full of life. It is our Hope Tree. For when I look at it, it is a reminder that when things seem broken, impossible, unfixable, lost, out of sync, out of rhythm, disorienting, or life throws us an absolute curveball that seems to cut us down and break us where we feel beyond repair, we are in fact still very much alive, it just isn’t as visible. It can take time, gentleness, nurturing, help, and love, and God can send that in many forms, through the people and things around us, and even through a sycamore tree, just as he did for our family through our beloved Nonna, and just as he did for Zacchaeus in Luke 19:1-10, NAB. For, even now, Jesus comes to seek and save what feels lost.
He [Jesus] came to Jericho and intended to pass through the town.
Now a man there named Zacchaeus, who was a chief tax collector and also a wealthy man, was seeking to see who Jesus was; but he could not see him because of the crowd, for he was short in stature.
So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree in order to see Jesus, who was about to pass that way.
When he reached the place, Jesus looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, come down quickly, for today I must stay at your house.” And he came down quickly and received him with joy.
When they all saw this, they began to grumble, saying, “He has gone to stay at the house of a sinner.” But Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Behold, half of my possessions, Lord, I shall give to the poor, and if I have extorted anything from anyone I shall repay it four times over.”
And Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house because this man too is a descendant of Abraham. For the Son of Man has come to seek and to save what was lost.”
When was a time in my life when life felt broken and yet I experienced God's hope and healing in a tangible way?
Who are the people around me who hold space for me, especially in seasons that feel more challenging or heavy, but also in seasons of joy?
Was there a time in my life where Jesus sought me out in order save what felt lost?
How can I be a living reminder of God's love to my spouse, my children, my parents, my siblings, my grandchildren, my nieces and nephews, my co-workers, and my friends?
How can I find healthy ways to hold space for my spouse, my children, my parents, my siblings, my grandchildren, my nieces and nephews, my co-workers, and my friends?
What are the tangible “sycamore trees” in my life that are signposts of hope and life?