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For our family, 2022 got off to a rough start. My father-in-law passed away in February. That was part of the background when I was so happy to have found good news to share in my last post (Happy Tales, published April 4). Later that month, my mother died. Both of our parents were “old and full of years” as Scripture might say, but death is still hard to face. We’ve had waves of grief, services to plan, and piles of paperwork to deal with. The process of sorting through meaningful possessions and stacks of photo albums is going to continue for a while yet.

A week or so after my mother’s memorial service, after out-of-town family had left, I knew it was time to pause and catch my breath. I made plans for a low-key afternoon with a close friend. Knowing me as well as she does, she suggested I would find it healing to be near the water. We hopped aboard a ferry heading across Puget Sound to Kingston.

As we walked off the ferry and into town, we noticed an art fair in the park. At one booth, a necklace caught my eye—a Tree of Life pendant on a beaded chain. The artistic swirls of the branches appealed to my eyes, while the ancient symbol spoke to my soul. I bought the necklace, feeling that somehow it might bring comfort and remind me of important truths as I walked into the next stage of my journey through grief.

The Tree of Life has held meaning for thousands of years across many cultures and religions. A friend who travels widely said she has seen it all over the world. It graces the cover of the journal my husband gave me, and there’s even a Tree of Life version of the Bible. This symbol can speak to us on many levels, some of which I knew when I bought the necklace, some of which I have come to realize since then. As I first slipped the pendant around my neck, I thought of biblical references in which the Tree of Life symbolizes eternal life. We’re going to devote a future post to diving specifically into those. Today, we’ll approach this symbol in broad terms.

To some people, the Tree of Life signifies that each of us, like every individual tree, is unique and beautiful. (This is a simple idea, but a good reminder.) Continuing that analogy, I thought how each of us stretches up and out, learning, growing, discovering and developing our gifts, and using them in the world. And yet, like a tree, we cannot grow without nourishment. Our roots are nourished by our families when we are young, by the larger community as we grow, and always by our God. Certainly, my mother offered much care and learning that helped me grow, and for that I am grateful. And each of us has the opportunity to help support and nourish those around us. You might want to think about who has nourished your roots, and whose roots you are called to nourish.

Trees can remind us of the life cycle of humans, as we watch them change through the seasons. On the rare occasion I was tempted to wonder if there was something more that could have or should have been done for my mother, it was a good reminder that love and medical care help sustain our lives, but do not stop this natural cycle.

Looking at the Tree of Life also brought to mind another kind of tree—a family tree. I found comfort in the thought that my mother and I are inextricably linked on the family tree and always will be. If someone does genealogy research 150 years from now, we’ll still be together.

There was an unexpected way in which the necklace proved to be a good companion. Since my father-in-law’s passing, and even more since my mother’s, I had been noticeably more distracted, forgetful, and generally brainless than usual. It was rather disconcerting! Now, I could glance down at the pendant and be assured that, as my friend had said, distraction and forgetfulness are part of the grieving process.

Recently, I was reading a book which mentioned how man-made objects often mimic nature. It said the shape of lighthouses was inspired by the shape of a tree trunk, starting wider and narrowing as it goes up. That makes sense—it is a sturdy shape, allowing lighthouses to stand firm in storms. I enjoyed this little tidbit of information, especially since my mother was fascinated with lighthouses and I like them, too. In fact, the concluding chapter of my book is titled, “Lighthouse”.

On the subject of books, it was right after my book, Life, Faith, and Saltwater Taffy, came out in print that my father-in-law went to the emergency room and entered his last days. At that point, my mother had already been on hospice for months. She was an English whiz who had helped with editing when I first began writing, so it was wonderful that she lived long enough to see the finished product. I was even able to read most of it to her.

My mother died the day before my first book event. Since I was still in a state of shock, I was able to proceed with the event, and, despite the timing, enjoyed the chance to share about my book. Jenny Shute, my illustrator, added a lot with her participation. We even divided the time with a local pastor who had recently written a book, and the whole thing was a fund-raiser. However, scheduling further events had to be put on the back burner.

I have had some positive comments which indicate the book is doing what it was intended to do—encourage people in their lives and faith. You can find Life, Faith, and Saltwater Taffy, by J.B. Hazelton, on the publisher’s website (http://wifpandstock.com), through Amazon, or Barnes and Noble. Now that things are settling down and I am less distracted, I’d be happy to share about my book with a faith community, at a book store, book club, church women’s group … Feel free to contact me at authorjbhazelton@gmail.com.

You are invited to share your thoughts and experiences relating to the Tree of Life and this post in the “Leave a comment” section below.