One late spring day I worked in my garden. I called it my “salad” because it produced a bumper crop of lettuce, onions, radishes and tomatoes. Along with patches of blueberries and strawberries, this was an important food source for a 70-year-old widow like me living on Social Security.
As usual I looked up at the big old maple tree looming over me. It was dead, but I couldn’t afford to have it taken down. I worried constantly that the tree would fall and ruin my garden. Worse, the tree’s two main limbs leaned over the electric lines into my house. No predicting the possible danger there.
The sky turned black as I picked a few tomatoes. A severe thunderstorm had been forecast. Once again I hoped God would send angels to help me. “Hold up that tree!” I asked before going inside. The storm hit hard that night. The wind roared. Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed. I didn’t dare look outside. After a while I heard only a steady rain. My gardening had worn me out, so I turned in.
Next morning when I opened the door I couldn’t believe my eyes. The old tree had cracked and fallen. The trunk rested parallel to my garden. The wind had come from exactly the right direction to aim the tree where it would do no damage at all. Angels didn’t hold up the tree, they took it down instead. I made a big salad to celebrate.
