A Matter of Perspective

     It was cold. At least, it felt cold to the two children dancing in the rain. Heads tilted against the torrential downpour, they came shrieking and laughing onto the porch for temporary shelter. Dripping wet, the younger one tapped my arm lightly the way you might touch a pan to see if it is too hot to carry.

    “Isn’t my hand cold?” Her eyes glittered with happiness. “It is so cold out here! It is as cold as when it snows! I think so!”

     And she dashed back into the rain.

     The thermometer in my kitchen read 92 degrees. Granted, in the rain outside, it was ten degrees cooler, but certainly not cold enough for snow.

     My daughter’s understanding of temperatures is warped from living in Africa for the past three years. America’s chill is long forgotten. But she knows that one day she will experience winter and this, this is how cold it will be!

     Even as I smiled at her skewed perspective, I realized we are the same, she and I.

     My expectations of Heaven are warped by today’s realities. Judging by what I read in the Bible and from life’s experiences, I try to imagine the intensity of being in His presence, to visualize what Heaven must look like. But earthly that I am, my best efforts cannot do justice to the glories that are to come.

     My shivering daughter returned to my side. She needed a towel and dry clothes. Her feet were cold, she said, and her arms were covered in goosebumps. I smiled, knowingly. One day soon she will find out what cold really is.

    After she was dry, we sat tightly together on the porch, my arms wrapped around her as we watched the rain. I tightened my hug, enjoying the moment. This, this togetherness must surely be like the love in Heaven.

     And my Father smiles, knowingly. One day soon I will find out.

The Largest Tree in West Africa

It wasn't meant to be an advertisement, but a passing comment of a friend sold me on the idea of seeing The Big Tree. "We saw a sign that pointed to the largest tree in West Africa," he said. "We were too busy to check it out, but it is only a couple hours from here."

Immediately, I wrote "The Big Tree" on my list of Places to Go Before Leaving Ghana. Part of the reason it appealed to me is that I am sorry to forever have missed my chance of driving through the giant sequoia in California.That iconic tree was something I wanted to see before I died. It felt like it would always be there, like maybe John and I could take a trip to the West Coast as retirees and see the tree then. But it fell. 

The largest tree in West Africa would help make up for my loss.

On our way home from our final visit to northern Ghana, we typed the tree's location into Google maps. Google maps has surprised us with its reliability and accuracy in Ghana. But this time it was wrong. The supposed fastest route ended up being a tractor path, wide enough for one car at a time. Grass grew between the tire tracks in some places. Over every hill, I expected the road to end in a farm. Everything was soggy because this is rainy season, and the truck slid around in deep mud. Villages were far between, so we discussed the possibility of being stranded in the mud on some out-of-the-way road, left to ourselves until the area dries out in January. The road had washouts and a narrow bridge made of uneven logs draped across a creek. 

Our uncertainty of this route taking us to our destination was reflected in occasional comments like: "Well, there are still tire tracks through here, so that is a good sign." 

After an hour and a half of poking along on this unbelievable road, we saw pavement and cheered. And a full two hours after Google maps' estimated time of arrival, we reached the Big Tree. Rain clouds were building all around us. Just when we stepped out of the truck, thunder rolled. But we were this close and had been jounced and bounced over such terrible roads that a little rain wasn't going to stop us. We trotted down the trail to the tree. 

And there it was, a 412-year-old Tieghemela heckle.This species is threatened with extinction since so many were harvested and they don't easily regenerate in the wild. 

The tree doesn't look very big on the pictures and was actually smaller in real life than I expected. But, still, it is a big tree, measuring thirty-nine feet in circumference and being nearly 220 feet tall. 

I would have liked to spend more time there, giving the children a chance to climb around at the base, to swing on the swing in a nearby tree, and to watch the army ant colony we stepped across. But it was starting to rain, and, worse, the baby somehow managed to bypass his diaper (?!) and hastened John's drenching. 

We raced back to the truck just as rain came down in torrents, satisfied that we had seen The Big Tree. 

(Just a side note for anyone else interested in visiting the tree: There is a nice road leading to the forest, but it comes in from the south, not the north. We found it on the way home.)