previously on Food for Fatherhood:
As I stared at the mess in my yard, I remembered what I had thought only a few hours previous.
‘You know, if a tree were to fall on the van tonight, it might not be such a bad thing.’
I remembered the verse I had been reading:
“Ask and it will be given to you.”
I took a deep breath.
‘Okay, Father. You’ve made your point. Now what?’
The early April snow was still swirling as I bundled up and ventured outside to assess the situation. The tree had taken down the main power line that runs to the house from a post near the base of our driveway. Luckily, the line had not been severed from the meter, merely yanked away from the house. I edged around our shed to avoid the live wire and, for the first time, saw the extent of the damage to our van.
He was gone. The entire driver's side lay crushed beneath a mass of solid maple. Branches twisted like writhing snakes in multiple directions. The top tips of the tree had missed our porch by centimeters. I moved closer, listening to the crunch of broken glass beneath the snow. The windshield was smashed, and the driver’s seat and second row captain’s chair were completely caved in.
‘If we’d been in there …’ I thought. A dark and grizzly image entered my mind. I expelled it quickly and I turned to face the tree.
This enormous maple had likely been an original part of our property, back when the hill was clear cut and divided by loose stone walls. The enormous base grew upwards, splitting into two sections large enough to be trees in their own right. Rot had taken over a section of the trunk, damaging the tree such that all it took was one final, windy winter storm to snap. Most of the tree still stands, tall and proud, though greatly weakened.
I snapped several pictures with my phone, and showed them to Briana once I’d gotten inside. When she saw what had happened to the driver’s seat, her eyes welled up with tears. She looked at me, and I knew she was thinking the same dark thought I had only a few minutes earlier. She hugged me for a very long time.
Since we were still blessed with power, we spent the remainder of the morning calling all of the necessary agencies. We contacted the electric company, who came out the next day to reattach the power line to our house. We contacted our auto insurance, who got us set up with a rental car, and all of the paperwork we needed to begin the claims process. It was a long, productive morning, and aside from the twinges Briana and I had felt at the thought of what might have been lost, the entire experience was smooth and efficient.
We gathered the kids and said a long prayer of thanks to the Lord, for sparing our house, our lives, and for keeping the power line intact.
When the kids were out of the room, I took Briana aside.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“I feel a little guilty,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because … I think I prayed for this.”
“Prayed for what?”
“Last night, before bed, I said that if a tree fell on the van, it might not be such a bad thing.”
“You did not!”
She stared at me in amazement.
I had always thought of prayer as something ritualistic, like when grace is said over a meal, or when a pastor closes Sunday service. But, I’ve begun to realize that prayer at its most powerful informally. Christ says in Mark 11:24: “Therefore, I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe you have received it, and it will be yours.” The times I’ve been at my most vulnerable emotionally are the times when God has moved in very obvious ways. This incident was no exception.
Every time we peaked out the window to take another look at the van, Briana and I believed we had received our prayer. We just didn’t know how big the answer was going to be.
As soon as Briana posted pictures of the van on social media, we were rushed with text messages and phone calls. Friends from church and around town offered to bring us food, borrow their spare car, and bring their chainsaws over to start clearing the tree. The more we received this outpouring of love and support, the more overwhelmed we became.
Ever since we’d moved to our small, New Hampshire town, we’d struggled to find a church that could replace the really excellent one we’d had back in Massachusetts. In October 2023, our friends John and Sara invited us to attend a service at their church, called Outreach. Within a few Sundays we knew we’d found our new church.
John had also been kicking around the idea of starting a Men’s Bible Group with other guys from church, and formalized the endeavor after New Year’s. Like my meetings with Bob, Men’s Group offers a chance to dive deep, and make connections with fellow believers. These guys were the first people I thought to reach out to when the tree came down. I asked if they could help me clear the tree. They said that they would be at my house on Sunday after church, chainsaws ready.
In preparation, I bought a new chain for my 14” saw, and had plenty of extra fuel and oil. I’d also put on a big batch of chili in the crockpot to feed my friends, because, whenever you have a work party, you need to provide whoever is helping you with something to eat.
The crew arrived shortly after noon with saws sharp and ready to go. Myself, my friend Travis and his son, Landon, along with John, Ivan, Robert, and Hannu all got to work. You’d have thought we worked together professionally. We all instinctively knew what to do and where to be. Some sawed, while others moved wood and piled brush. Natalie pitched in too, working with us from start to finish. In just an hour and a half, we had turned that tree into next winter’s fire wood, and then some
When we finished, I led the group in prayer. I thanked God for the safety he provided as we worked with the wood and the chainsaws, and for the amazing community of men and women he had blessed our church with.
You cannot know the extent of a friend’s care until you’ve been through something difficult. We’re several weeks removed from the chainsaw party, and Briana and I are still feeling the blessings of our friends. Travis is due to come over soon with his wood splitter to help turn the larger pieces into firewood. Ivan let us borrow his car for an afternoon. John and Sara have continued to check in and offer help where needed.
We haven’t known any of our friends for very long, yet somehow if feels like we’ve known each other forever. That’s what brotherhood in Christ can achieve. It is more than just friendship that is being developed, it is true community. What my conversation with Bob had primed me for I am now experiencing in real time. I have guys on my side who pray for me and show up. It’s an amazing feeling.