The Fairy Tree :: By Tom Clark

(A letter to Marilyn)

When we were children, we had no problem believing in magical things. My two older sisters, Ann and Kathy, would walk me to St. Joseph’s Elementary school before going on to the Convent of the Sacred Heart (an all-girls school). As we walked down the street of this old neighborhood of estates, there were a number of oak trees lining the road. These were ancient trees more than a hundred years old, with huge diameters of perhaps 3 or 4 feet and easily 70 feet or more tall. The bark on one in particular was thick and deeply grooved. It was called the Fairy tree.

I liked the Fairy Tree best of all, of course, and would always ask Ann and Kathy to go over to it so we could see the fairies. On some very special days, they’d relent and exchange knowing glances, say “Okay,” and we’d walk over to this tree and stand under its shady canopy and look for the fairies. I could see them way up the trunk, just about where the big branches come out. Caught in the early morning sunlight, they could be seen flying in and out of a house they’d made in the side of the tree. “That’s the fairies… see!” my sisters would tell me.

This would be the start of a ritual orchestrated by my sisters that I was eagerly awaiting. I’d be encouraged to call up to them in greeting and ask them if they had any presents to give me today. It was just naturally understood that if you saw and believed in fairies, they would (on occasion) give you a gift. Ann, my oldest sister, would be the one who’d hear their response. “Yes,” she’d exclaim, “they have a present today.” “Oh boy!” I’d be thinking, “let’s go!”

It was then required that we walk around and around the tree, not fast but sort of a march. I would be in the front, Kathy in the middle, and Ann behind. I think sometimes we would make up silly rhymes and sing them as we went around. Now, the really good part would happen. As I walked around the tree, I’d be looking at the bark, looking for the fairies’ present. Usually, by the third or fourth time, it would be there. Wedged between the deep grooves of bark would be a “present” from the fairies.

Sometimes it would be one of those cheap gold rings you get from the 10-cent novelty machine at the grocery store, sometimes it would be a shiny coin or a piece of candy, and once it was an old brass key that (I was told on good authority by Ann, of course) was the key to a treasure box that leprechauns had hidden!

It was a wonderful moment to find the fairies’ gift! I would pluck it from the trunk and hold it up for my sisters to see. They’d come over to inspect it and admire the quality of such a fine thing. We’d always remember to thank them. Before we left to continue on towards school, I remember looking back up at those beautiful fairies. There they’d be, flitting about their home in the tree and shining in the sunlight. I would always remember those days as an innocent (if not ignorant) child, grateful in ways I could never express for the wonder of God’s world as my sisters and I just walked to school

The fairies are gone now. There are no fairies in my world anymore. This world is really such a sad place, Marilyn. Our only hope is in Jesus and the marvelous gift of salvation he offers us. And in case you didn’t figure it out, my dear, the “fairies” were honey bees who lived in the tree, and Ann and Kathy put the “presents” in the bark while I was on the other side. Still, as a child, I believed, and now as a man, I believe in something so much more wonderful!

Tom

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