The empty lot on the street lined with homes is the home for the leaning tree.
The branches are thick and twisted, gnarly but producing papery leaves on wiry branches.
Long before the homes took up space here, the road was hard and dusty, clay.
My children were small and we walked like explorers down the road. Once or twice, the hills were covered in snow and they slid and fell and ran around in thick socks tucked down in tennis shoes, makeshift boots for children of the South.
I walked past this tree yesterday. The subdivision neighbors all know me I suppose, that woman who looks at the clouds, the one who walks very fast, the one not inclined to stop and chat.
I noticed the tree the day after I’d read about God’s response to Adam and his wife Eve.
I read of how God responded by making them clothing from animal skins to replace the covering they’d contrived in shame that was made of scratchy leaves.
I spent some time reminding myself of the interactions, of the course of Eve and Adam’s recognition of mistake and of their shame.
“And the woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden, but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die.’” But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate.”
Genesis 3:2-6 ESV
In the garden, Eve succumbed to the need to know more than she needed to know, to know more than was necessary for thriving.
God had provided everything.
She wasn’t quite sure, I suppose. She wanted to know more and wanted more.
The tone of God’s voice in response is sternly disappointed. The course of life changed not just for them but for everyone.
I wonder if God just wondered, is everything I’ve provided not enough?
They knew quickly that they were changed and with that realization came shame.
“Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked. And they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths. And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.”
Genesis 3:7-8 ESV
God responded.
This part of scripture is the one that brought me to tears, the provision of God in their time, although a rebellious time of need.
Sometimes I think we carry the most memorable parts of God’s story and use those passages as guidance while only occasionally remembering the mercy of God.
Maybe not you, sometimes me.
I imagine the remorse of Eve.
I can see her standing there trying to undo her mistake. I envision Adam hearing her out, she just wanted to help them be prepared…
If God gave us all of these things in this environment, surely it’s okay if we “ask for help” in the places we need, all of this is new, we need a way to go forward, the future, the present, the what on earth are we expected to do next?
Surely, it was okay to be as wise as God, she must’ve decided.
God asks “Why?”.
He then unveils the consequences of their questioning of knowing “just enough” and that knowing being enough, being His plan.
Then we learn of Eve being named, a beautifully significant name. And we read of God’s response to the couple covered in fig leaves,
Lovingly responding with provision.
“He said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten of the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?” The man called his wife’s name Eve, because she was the mother of all living. And the Lord God made for Adam and for his wife garments of skins and clothed them.”
Genesis 3:11, 20-21 ESV
I had been dwelling on this passage for a few days when I paused in front of the ancient tree. I thought how odd it must seem that I find its barrenness so compelling.
This tree with nothing but age and no evidence of fruit still exists to remind me of purpose, of the beauty of acceptance of what lingers and what fades, what can be acknowledged as contributing to decline, what might cause shame in light of decisions made and how despite of and because of every bit, still I’m met with grace.
And I’m clothed with God’s love, a softly wrapped tapestry of all my troubles, my questions, his responses, my weaknesses made stronger in their being unhidden, being discovered although desperately hoping they’d go unexposed.
I am found and responded to.
I’m Eve recognizing “some things are not for me to know” and I’m dressed in a more splendid covering than a hurried and shamefully placed fix.
I’m clothed in a robe of redemption.
It’s layered with old scraps of mistakes and shame threaded together so that I remember, with velvety golden threads of rescue, of help, of redirection.
How has God responded to you?
Remember the times you’ve been found, covered and loved.
Held back up gently when you’ve fallen.
“My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.”
Psalm 63:8 ESV
Lisa Anne Tindal 