Return-Path: cms@dragon.com
Newsgroups: bit.listserv.catholic
Date:         Wed, 23 Dec 1992 23:42:38 EST
From:         "Spawn of a Jewish Carpenter (Cindy Smith)" <cms@DRAGON.COM>
Subject: Re: Tale of the Three Trees

                     The Tale of Three Trees

                                A
                           Traditional
                             Folktale

                  Retold by Angela Elwell Hunt

 For generations the tale of three trees has been handed down from
parents to children, retold in churches at Christmas and Easter, and
even set to music and sung.  As is often true of folktales, its
originator is unknown.  To this person, I am deeply grateful.

                                            Angela Elwell Hunt

 Once upon a mountaintop, three little trees stood and dreamed of what
they wanted to be when they grew up.

 The first little tree looked up at the stars twinkling like diamonds
above him.  "I want to hold treasure," he said.  "I want to be filled
with precious stones.  I will be the most beautiful treasure chest in
the world!"

 The second little tree looked out at the small stream trickling by on
its way to the ocean.  "I want to be a strong sailing ship," he said.
"I want to travel mighty waters and carry powerful kings.  I will be
the strongest ship in the world!"

 The third little tree looked down into the valley below where busy
men and busy women worked in a busy town.  "I don't want to leave this
mountaintop at all," she said.  "I want to grow so tall that when
people stop to look at me they will raise their eyes to heaven and
think of God.  I will be the tallest tree in the world!"

 Years passed.  The rains came, the sun shone, and the little trees
grew tall.

 One day three woodcutters climbed the mountain.

 The first woodcutter looked at the first tree and said, "This tree is
perfect for me."  With a swoop of his shining axe, the first tree
fell.

 "Now I shall be made into a beautiful chest," thought the first tree.
"I shall hold wonderful treasure."

 The second woodcutter looked at the second tree and said, "This tree
is strong.  It is perfect for me."  With a swoop of his shining axe,
the second tree fell.

 "Now I shall sail mighty waters," thought the second tree.  "I shall
be a strong ship fit for kings!"

 The third tree felt her heart sink when the last woodcutter looked
her way.  She stood straight and tall and pointed bravely to heaven.

 But the woodcutter never even looked up.  "Any kind of tree will do
for me," he muttered.  With a swoop of his shining axe, the third tree
fell.

 The first tree rejoiced when the woodcutter brought him to a
carpenter's shop, but the busy carpenter was not thinking about
treasure chests.  Instead his work-worn hands fashioned the tree into
a feed box for animals.

 The once-beautiful tree was not covered with gold or filled with
treasure.  He was coated with sawdust and filled with hay for hungry
farm animals.

 The second tree smiled when the woodcutter took him to a shipyard,
but no mighty sailing ships were being made that day.  Instead the
once-strong tree was hammered and sawed into a simple fishing boat.

 Too small and too weak to sail an ocean or even a river, he was taken
to a little lake.  Every day he brought in loads of dead, smelly fish.

 The third tree was confused when the woodcutter cut her into strong
beams and left her in a lumberyard.

 "What happened?" the once-tall tree wondered.  "All I ever wanted to
do was stay on the mountaintop and point to God."

 Many, many days and nights passed.  The three trees nearly forgot
their dreams.

 But one night golden starlight poured over the first tree as a young
woman placed her newborn baby in the feed box.

 "I wish I could make a cradle for him," her husband whispered.

 The mother squeezed his hand and smiled as the starlight shone on the
smooth and sturdy wood.  "This manger is beautiful," she said.

 And suddenly the first tree knew he was holding the greatest treasure
in the world.

 One evening a tired traveller and his friends crowded into the old
fishing boat.  The traveller fell asleep as the second tree quietly
sailed out into the lake.

 Soon a thundering and thrashing storm arose.  The little tree
shuddered.  He knew he did not have the strength to carry so many
passengers safely through the wind and rain.

 The tired man awakened.  He stood up, stretched out his hand, and
said, "Peace."  The storm stopped as quickly as it had begun.

 And suddenly the second tree knew he was carrying the King of heaven
and earth.

 One Friday morning, the third tree was startled when her beams were
yanked from the forgotten woodpile.  She flinched as she was carried
through an angry, jeering crowd.  She shuddered when soldiers nailed a
man's hands to her.

 She felt ugly and harsh and cruel.

 But on Sunday morning, when the sun rose and the earth trembled with
joy beneath her, the third tree knew that God's love had changed
everything.

 It had made the first tree beautiful.

 It had made the second tree strong.

 And every time people thought of the third tree, they would think of
God.

 That was better than being the tallest tree in the world.
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