Picture by Aída Besançon Spencer
About 30 years or so ago, a nor’easter of terrific force roared in off the Atlantic and knocked a large tree down all across the little vegetable garden Aίda cultivates in the small space between the left side of our garage and the old rusted metal pole that marks off our neighbor’s property line in traditional New England fashion. Limbs and trees were down all over town and, as for the infant broccoli and tomatoes sprouts in our garden – they were totally buried under wood and foliage. We stood, staring at it in shock and dismay. How were we going to get rid of all this debris? At that point, a neighbor across the street, peered out her front door, over her leaf and branch-strewn lawn and called to us, “Do you have a power saw?” We were the new neighbors at that point, only having been in the neighborhood for a mere 14 years. We learned early on that – to be a Bonafide New Englander, one has to live here for 25 years for starters. So, we still obviously needed good advice. New Englanders are renowned for not warming up to newcomers – we freeze up to them and that friendship sticks for life. I can say “we,” because our family has now lived here for 44 years – we are now authentic Yankees (of course, not to be confused with the baseball team, since all true New Englanders are automatic Red Sox fans, no matter whom we rooted for before).
Well, we didn’t have a power saw. But she did, and, in the gracious way New Englanders reach out to each other in a calamity, she asked: “You burn firewood don’t you? Well, you can borrow mine and cut that up and burn it in your wood stove.” I gaped at her. We had inherited a large wood stove as part of the furniture when we bought our house and, like everybody else, we had been working our way through a number of woodmen looking for someone with long cords and reasonable rates, not having yet met our superb present wood supplier: Steve Salisbury of Middleton, MA, a few towns over from us, who has become more than just our woodman, but a personal friend as is his wife and son, Steve Jr. Well, I sawed up the wood, stacked it in the bottom of the garage and never looked back. Fossil fuel in the land of Cape Cod costs about the same as launching a moon rocket from the sands of Cape Canaveral, at least it feels that way – and buying already cut-up wood was one of our greatest expenses. Steve delivered me long heavy limbs and smaller tree trunks and his long cord of wood was like every other dealer’s two cords. Our heating costs – the greatest drain on our small budget, except, of course for taxes here in “Taxachusetts” - as those who live here call our state – suddenly dropped and made living here for the next decades more doable. We could actually survive here and not have to sneak out in our eventual retirement years and pitch a tent in some deep recess of the vast Wenham Swamp, whose mosquito-laden borders are just three blocks away.
But what I didn’t anticipate as I gratefully cut up and split by hand my first treefall was what a change in my life this simple beginning would produce! Once Steve Salsibury started downloading tree limbs and trunks into our driveway, I began to gather up suitable equipment: a wedge I bought at Home Depot along with an axe and a 16 pound sledge hammer I call “The Great Equalizer,” another wedge we unearthed in our yard, a third a dear friend and elder in our church, Joe Kerwin, graciously gave me, and, finally, after a succession of electric power saws (if I’m not going into the woods for trees, why should I have gas fumes blowing in my face???), a crowbar and the mineral hammer that had been my dad’s, and, finally, a trade with a church member of a maul for me and for him a cement pick left behind by our house’s former owners he’d noticed when he visited us the week he was breaking up an old cement patio at his house). I was good to go! Since then, my only addition is a large hatchet we also found in our yard. New Englanders traditionally buried their refuse in their yards. When our across-the-street neighbor was a girl, she and the rest of the neighborhood watched as a Model-T Ford chassis was dug out of the small yard to the right of our garage and the street. Every home has its own history.
Well, right to today, the wood has done a lot for me, besides making our budget doable as our state and town taxes continue to skyrocket. Chopping by hands protected by super thick work gloves has built up my health and strength. Since writing and research and teaching are largely sedentary tasks, involving this exercise has done wonders for my disposition. While I’m usually gentle and upbeat, if I’m ever editing or grading and feel my time is being wasted and, thus, tempted to snarl. “What will this babbler say?” (cf. Acts 17:18), a refreshing hour pounding on the wood, and I sink into my chair and muse beneficently, “What does this delightful student (or potential Africanus Journal writer) have to share?”
So, what exactly have I learned from chopping wood?
PATIENCE: I’m originally from New Jersey. Patience is not imbibed automatically from our baby bottles. But wood is not cooperative. With haste, getting hurt is very easy. One only needs to hit one’s thumb once to learn that. So, wood chopping teaches patience. No matter how hard I beg, it will not cut itself. And, if that’s not enough, well-meaning passersby will help it out. They, filled with pity seeing a job as laborious as sawing and splitting unseasoned wood, will inevitably ask: “Why don’t you buy a splitter? It would make your job real easy,” followed by a quizzical gaze…) Answer: “I mainly sit down at work, so this is my exercise. I save time and money not having to go to a gym. I can get all the weight-lifting and endurance work I need, while guaranteeing a warm winter for my wife and child.” If I earned a nickel for every time I’ve been asked that, I could put a whole gallon of gas into our car, even at current prices! And, thankfully, after about twenty minutes into work, I already have built up enough reserve patience to return my stock answer cordially to this well-meaning, even if endless, question.
PERSEVERANCE: Chopping up wood teaches me I don’t live in a movie. In a movie, the characters decide to go somewhere and -Voila! – they’re there. Sometimes they seem to jump from the car to the front door of their destination, or they walk in splices here, closer, then suddenly looming in front of us, with the speed of an airport supercharging its moving sidewalk. But our task takes time. Just getting ready takes perseverance. One needs thick gloves to protect the hands, as I noted, then ear plugs to quiet down the noise of sawing, long sleeves and trousers to ward off ticks, goggles to protect the eyes from flying wood chips and sawdust, along with a hat and sunglasses and sunscreen to protect the eyes when the sun is out. And sometimes hand and leg supports when one is starting out. In short, a wood chopper needs it all. Hauling out the ruler and all the tools, and setting up wood slates to protect the driveway or the lawn from the saw and the hammers is also mandatory, so it can take a half hour to get set up, especially, if we put a cardboard or tarpaulin under the slats to catch the sawdust so that can be put under any trees. Hmmmm, did I lose any readers with my detailed explanation of proper preparation? If so, please warn them not to get into wood chopping, because everything I’ve mentioned ensures safety. Perseverance is mandatory, even in preparation.
PREPARATION: Also, passages of the Bible have come alive for me as my instructors in ways I never anticipated before I started chopping for fuel. Solomon knew much about construction. For example, consider Ecclesiastes 10:9b: In wood splitting one can hurt oneself. [Better to take this warning from the Old Testament rather than from personal experience – that’s for sure!] The next verse cautions us, if the blade with which we’re cutting becomes blunt [an interesting word: kahah[1] whose onomatopoeic letters sound smooth, like a dull blade] and is not sharpened with a whet stone, one needs more exertion (or strength), but proper use will bring success. In other words, keep our tools sharp and do our job right the first time. If we don’t and we slack off, verse 18 of this same chapter warns us the beams will sink (i.e., the rafters will sag) on the house we construct. If you don’t prepare well, more effort is needed to get the job done. Use wisdom to guide you to do things effectively in both physical and spiritual tasks.
PERFORMANCE: Have we noticed? God was very specific when laying out the plans for the ark in Genesis 6 (v. 14). Cypress wood[2] is a durable, lighter, wood with its own resin and could stand the rigors of the Genesis flood. So, even some soft woods are useful for construction. In Exodus 37:1, acacia wood, another strong, durable, rot-resistant wood was selected for the Ark of the Covenant in the Holy of Holies of the Tabernacle. However, in selecting wood to put in our fires, not just any type will do. Soft wood like leftover railroad ties used under tracks or other pine-type wood used for slats or painted for buildings are often filled with creosote which can coat the inside of your chimney when you burn it and cause a lot of smoke and even a fire. Hard wood like maple, oak, hickory, and cherry burn much cleaner and longer. The old spiritual, “Well, Well, Well” warned that God said, “a fire not a flood next time.” We don’t want to fulfill that promise in microcosm in our chimney. So, I’ve learned to follow God’s guidance to be careful and specific in the wood we choose and I recommend that to all, because we still see occasional chimney fires burn houses here in town. The best advice I’ve heard is use your pine for fire pits, heat your house with hard wood. God didn’t send Noah and his family off in a big pine box. They may have all ended up in a huge fire, if they had a wood stove on the ark! God sent Noah’s family out in a lighter cypress softwood box which was rot resistance and they lived to tell the tale… So should we, when working carefully and conscientiously with our wood tasks. In life, in physical and spiritual tasks, we should use appropriate quality resources and do quality work.
PROSPERING: And an important final point needs to be made: trees are not just about chopping and burning – that’s for dead or diseased, ant-ridden trees. Instead, Psalm 92:12 likens the righteous person to a flourishing palm tree, growing like a cedar of Lebanon. Verse 13 continues the analogy, depicting the righteous as planted by God. Verse 14 celebrates the fact that the righteous will still bear fruit in our senior years, staying green and fresh and praising God (v. 15).
Trees are a gift from God – both alive and even in death. And I am so grateful for them. From them I have learned patience, perseverance, preparation, performance, and prospering.
Bill
