This classic children’s story, sparsely written and simply illustrated by Shel Silverstein, is now almost 50 years in print. Remarkably, it will touch readers of all ages, from playful kids to college students, from young parents with demanding kids, to old men with no time for play; most recently, I’ve seen the parable touch those at the end of life.
Silverstein's message is ambiguous. (Could it be there are givers, takers and other kinds of lovers? Is self-sacrifice gaood, or is it sad?) To me, this ever-giving tree with its Christ-like features replaces the Christmas tree in family lore. The Giving Tree personifies sacrificial giving from first to last breath, or the endless capacity to love. That is Christ, if you ask me.
The Giving Tree was first read to me by my mom during my late teens and college years, while I was yet a seeker, looking for something more than myself to believe in, even someone to love. Mom was so generous with her time, her handiwork, her expressions of endless love. Yet I was full of wanderlust—wandering off, away from home, away from the church, away from
God—but always drawn back to the Source of giving just like the boy in this parable. Mom is that giving tree, honored at her death with us planting a special tree.
A dozen years after I was first introduced to this parable, I became a dad. Every night I’d read to my two boys, Eric and Mark. I read The Giving Tree over and over, mimicking the boy turned teen/busybody/grumpy old man in this story. I knew from the simple line artwork and basic storyline that this parable applied to young and old alike, but it wasn’t until I began reading it
to some folks at the end of life, that I see its deeper application.
“‘I don’t need very much now,” said the boy to the tree. (By now the tree is just an old stump, cut down by the 'boy', now a tired old grump.) ‘Well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.’ The boy did. And the tree was happy.”
Thus ends this classic story, but not its application.
From the story’s happy ending, I go on to ask the old man in front of me, sitting in his broda or wheelchair, this question: Are you tired and looking for a place to rest your weary body and soul? After getting a yes or a nod, I invite him lean on Christ, who
bids us, one and all, young and old: “Come to Me all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me,... and you will find (eternal) rest for your souls" (Matthew 11:28-29).
I turn to caregivers for this dying patient, usually a dutiful daughter or duty-bound wife, and ask: Do you see yourself in that tree? How so? Have anything left to give? If so, what?
And I ask any younger son if he would return to the Source of giving, after staying away. I assure all my patients and their loved ones that it is never too late, that we can turn back any time, that the Tree is always there, always giving, saying, “Come,... sit down and rest.”
This is not about “making the Tree (or me) happy,” but finding the necessary rest that only He (or She) can give. That is the Gospel story, and I am sticking with it.
For you and yours, as well, may the Giving Tree of Life replace the Christmas Tree in your life.