My Soul is like Tree

When I was 15 yrs old, I met a pivotal group of people. They were my best friends and we were together everyday for many years, mostly in the same place... 234 East 300 North. The Stewart Residence. I still remember the address and the phone number, I could never forget. Mostly I will never forget the people that touched my life forever.

It was such an impactful experience for me hanging out every day, because in that circle doing mostly nothing, the group us of were actually doing alot of something, learning alot about dealing with life. We did it together. We started earlier than most in our sheltered neighborhoods dealing with the big guns of life, like death, divorce, drugs, religion, money, jobs, car accidents, illness, trouble with the law, it was all in there. I've often wondered if that is why God brought us together, because he knew that we were a unique bunch of teens that were going to be hit by life and we needed to be there for each other. And we were.

The years passed and we grew up. We got married and had kids and did what people do. And since grown up life doesn't exactly lend to playing haki sak every night with our friends, we don't see each other a lot. We get together for a christmas party and usually a BBQ or two in the summer, but that is it. But we all walk around with a mark on our hearts because we shared those special years together.

And every once in a while that place in our hearts throb when one us is being hit again with one of those big guns of life. It has happened alot in the past ten "grown up" years that we have spent apart. It is happening again. Papa James Stewart, the owner and head of that infamous Stewart Residence died yesterday. When I was a troubled teen spenging day in and day out at his house, I tried not to be seen by him. And when I became a grown up I got to know him better. He is a kind and good man. He had to be to let a bunch of hooligans run around and through his house for all those years.

I am thinking about his wife today, who without me even even knowing it, was mothering all of us by letting us gather there every day for so long. I am thinking about Jer, my friend who I love who lost his dad. My heart is feeling his hurt today. I am frantic when I think that those important people will gather this week to be there for Jer, and I will not be able to be there.

I hope he feels my love and prayers. I hope he knows that I am forever grateful for his friendship. I hope he feels my hugs in all the hugs he gets in the next few days. I hope his wife Marie knows that I love her too, and all their beautiful children. I am feeling their loss, and I love them.

I think that my soul is like a tree. My life and my actions are the visble trunk and branches and leaves of that tree. The roots are my belifes and my background that nourish and are the cause of how my visible tree grows and flowers. When my grandma died I felt one of the roots of my soul tremble as a fundamental peson in my development left this earth. Today I feel a little bit like that again.

James Stewart probably didn't even know how much his house and his son would be an anchor in my soul. I would dare say, an anchor in many peoples souls. I love him for that, and I love his family. I am thinking about you Stewart Family.

You are a root of my tree.