Plant the Tree Even though We Might Not Enjoy its Shade

It takes a special sort of kindness, humility, and sense of the common good to be willing to work hard on projects knowing that we won’t be around to enjoy their fruits. Legacies aren’t left just in financial endowments or carved in stone buildings. They also carry vibrant lives within rising generations that catch the fervor of purpose in doing worthwhile things, like establishing public parks, from and because of the vision of the generations before.

Have you ever walked through a city park full of mature trees, lush lawns, and maybe a pond or water feature? I know I had some great city parks near my home growing up, and I never really thought about who planned and designed, planted and cultivated, and watered and nurtured these parks at their beginnings?

This morning I spent some good time at Mt. Tabor which is a gorgeous park on the top of an extinct volcano in Portland, Oregon. I actually found out that there are only four major metropolitan areas in the United States with extinct volcanoes within their city limits and Mt. Tabor is the large one. The park lands were acquired back in 1909—113 years ago—and took several years to layout and landscape.

But here’s the thing that amazes me the most about this city park as well as most city parks: the person who laid out the plans and had the vision for what the park could become never lives long enough to see that vision be completely realized. In the case of Mt. Tabor, there are certainly trees older than 113 years old so when the park was being design, those existing trees could be incorporated. But hundreds more needed to be planted. Shading picnic areas that are so pleasant on a hot summer day would not have been shady when the designer was laying things out. Beautiful groves of mature trees that nearly took my breath away this morning, could have only have been seen in the designer’s mind’s eye because those groves wouldn’t have been nearly as impressive if the trees had been planted at all at the starting phase of the park.

I realized as I walked along one of the well used trails that cut underneath the towering for trees, that so often I focus on goals and seek for achievements that I can attain on the short term. Losing a pound or two. Writing a novel. Traveling to Europe. And so many other things that seem large in my mind’s eye. These are all worthwhile endeavors. But it takes a different kind of lens to be willing to think about the projects and goals and visions we can set for our families and communities that will undoubtedly outlive us and will need to take a life beyond our own to be fully realized.

It takes a special sort of kindness, humility, and sense of the common good to be willing to work hard on projects knowing that we won’t be around to enjoy their fruits. So why ever work on such projects when we won’t benefit from the end results? I guess it really comes down to changing our focal length from our immediate wants and achievements to be able to encompass several generations’ worth of efforts, and then to be willing and able to draw strength, motivation, and passion from envisioning the benefits that future generations will gain from our efforts. Legacies aren’t left just in financial endowments or carved in stone buildings. They also carry vibrant lives within rising generations that catch the fervor of purpose in doing worthwhile things, like establishing public parks, from and because of the vision of the generations before.