When I encountered the fallen giant, I was struck by the greatness of its size. It must have been a formidable sight, looming over the clear mountain stream before my eyes. The fallen giant was a dead oak tree, resting near the footpath I had taken.
I gazed at its length and width and began to wonder what it must have looked like in its prime. How sad it seemed to me that something so great should fall. How tragic that something, which at one time was so alive, now rested in death, quietly rotting on a hillside. I dangled my feet into the stream as I rested my head against its massive torso. The warm summer sun bathed my face and soon I was asleep with the fallen giant.
My mind raced into a dream. I was taken to an earlier time. I recognized the stream, but where was the giant? It was nowhere to be seen. Then at my feet I noticed, standing no more than a foot or two in height, an oak sapling. It hung over, heavily burdened by the weight of three large leaves. "Could this be the giant?" I wondered. "Was it possible that this small, weak twig could grow into something so great?"
My dream carried me forward in time as the season changed. With winter came a great storm and the oak sapling was buried deep under the snow. Surely, this winter would break the spirit and life of the little tree. When springtime arrived and the snow melted away, there was no sign of life. Then all at once a bud appeared and the tree sprang again to life. This season added two feet to its height and its girth doubled in size. The seasons began to pass before me more quickly as the oak tree grew and grew. I was there to witness the first fruits it bore; just a handful of acorns, but the forest creatures still treasured the small crop. The oak tree was just beginning to fill the measure of its creation. With each passing season, the fruits it bore became more and more numerous, giving life to many. Oh, what a marvelous thing the great oak tree had become! Finally I was able to see the tree in the glory that I had earlier only imagined. It truly was a marvelous sight as it stood sentinel on the hillside.
There were many days when boys came along the path and climbed the tree. Its strong limbs were outstretched arms beckoning them upward. One of the boys grew to be a man and loved the tree so much; he brought his little daughter to visit. He made a swing for her on one of the limbs and from that time forward, many children delighted as they would swing over the trickling stream on warm summer days. Young lovers found the tree an irresistible place to carve their initials, declaring their love for each other. The scars in the bark eventually healed, but their imprints were carried forever in the heart of the great oak.
The creatures of the forest also loved the tree. In springtime, the tall branches were filled with fledgling songbirds who found safety within the leaves. Squirrels found joy racing each other to the top and then back down again. I marveled to think that this wondrous creation had once nearly died in the winter snows. And just at the time when it had attained such splendor, the great irony of life and death began to unfold. A battle was beginning to stir inside the giant.
The first signs of trouble were small. A premature yellowing of the leaves was all that I noticed. As the next winter ended and spring began, it was later than the rest to produce buds. On the outside the tree appeared almost normal, but a war was raging inside. Time passed and as sometimes happens, the fight was lost. The lush, verdant leaves of the giant were all gone. One day a great thunder storm arose and in a big gust of wind, the giant fell. All of the forest seemed to pause in sweet silence for their fallen friend.
Suddenly I was awake and on my feet. My dream had been so real. But now I was even sadder than before. In desperation I called out to God, " How could you create something so wonderful, only to let it die and rot? How could something so great and needful be gone?" It was only then that I noticed at the base of the trunk where the roots of the giant had been, an oak sapling, standing only a foot or two in height, hanging over, burdened by the weight of three large leaves.
Life is an eternal round...
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