Italian Transplants
“I love those trees we saw in Italy! What were they called? Do they grow in Minnesota?” I asked one day. “I know I’ve seen some in cemeteries. At least they sure look like the same kind. My husband assured me they were not the Cypress trees we saw, but he was confident he could find the look-a-like.
When spring rolled around, off we went in search of. We found what we were looking for and loaded several into his pick-up for purchase. Then, we added a few more and that’s how we ended up with exactly eight looking like Cypress trees out front our house. The resemblance is close enough and I was happy!
Planted a few feet from the other, they stood watch over the comings and goings of our yard. The memory of Italy right here in Minnesota made my heart sing. And each time looked out, I pictured the giver of them hand digging the hole in which they’d been placed.
As summer turned to fall and winter was just around the corner, discussion ensued about whether or not the deer might nibble at the beautifully shaped tops which pointed skyward. As they were only a few feet high, they would need protection from the critters passing by. So, with equal tenderness, stakes were pounded around the trees in order to ready them for the orange fencing that would do what it would do—protect.
As the weeks turned to months, I braved the question. “So, you bought the trees, you pounded the stakes, but where’s the fencing and when does that go up?”
“Oh,” said he. “I’m going to just wait and watch because we don’t know if the deer will even nibble on that particular variety.”
“As a lay person watching on—claiming to know nothing about trees, or posts, or fencing— won’t it be too late once they nibble the tops off the perfectly formed trees? I mean, isn’t that was makes them look all Italy like?”
Silence. Weeks passed. And as I passed by the trees, I watched—perhaps more vigilantly than he. Until—one day when we were driving past—I noted. “Looks to me like one’s been nibbled on! The first tree has a bunch of the top branches completely gone!” With my mouth agape, and a heart that sank deep into the pit of my stomach, I heard the response all calm like.
“Could have been the wind from the night before.”
It made no sense to pay the money, do the planting, pound the stakes only to “wait and see.” Proactive is what I like to be and thus ensued the “discussion” of 2025. I made my point by drawing out each and every detail I’d been voicing for the past several months, only to be silenced by his silence— leaving me to believe he had some secret wisdom that I did not.
As luck would have it, we just happened to be driving into town where we could purchase the orange fencing. Once home, up went the fence to protect. No longer pointed skyward was one of the eight little trees now more rounded atop than the others.
Truth is, I’d been trying to give grace by not demanding it go up sooner and he chose grace by going to town to make things right. No kidding when our precious Lord speaks in John 1:16. “For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” It goes full circle as it cycles round in places one least expects. As it’s 2026, take note. One never knows where grace will be given and when grace will be received. Could be out of nowhere just driving to town. Amen.
