Thank God for our differences – Lessons learned from palm trees

BrendaBy Brenda Cannon Henley
I was standing on the upper deck of a beautiful house built on Galveston Bay where a friend has a large collection of various palm trees wonderfully landscaped on his property. I have had a running love affair with palms since I began to write Winds Over Bolivar, a book about Hurricane Ike on the Bolivar Peninsula and its aftermath, where I used a beautiful palm that endured Hurricane Ike for my cover shot. My good friend and talented artist, Cindy Elder DeLaO, had taken the photo in her back yard of a palm that withstood the wind, battering rain, and rising brackish water. It had learned to bend and not break and was there to tell the tale.

I called Cindy when I first saw the photo and asked her if she owned the art. She said, “I guess I do. It is in my camera where I took it last night.” I then asked if she would allow me to purchase the print for the cover. She said, “No.” I was briefly disappointed until she said, “You use anything I have done. I am honored to have you want to use it and I can’t wait until the book comes out and I can have a copy.” I used the print, the publisher was delighted, and I have never regretted the decision. It is a beautiful cover if it is on my book and I saw that Cindy received one of the first copies off the press. While doing the research for the book, I learned so many things about the different palms that dot our landscapes all along the beautiful Southeast Texas Gulf Coast.

My heart beat faster as I read Psalm 92:12 where I learned “The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree. He shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon.” You know, the Lord could have used any metaphor He wanted to describe His children, but he chose the stately palm. I will never take another one for granted as long as I live. Palm trees are firm and strong and have a very long life span. BCH_2015-0127-2The growth of the palm tree may not be rapid, but their endurance may last for centuries. My friend pointed out to me that some of the palms I was looking at on his property were nearly forty years in the Texas ground here, and some of them were several years old when they were planted. The very largest of these California palms are valued at somewhere between $30,000 and $40,000 each, while the smaller ones range in price downward of that figure. They stood the battering ram of Hurricane Ike and are absolutely beautiful today. I found that various types of palms would grow well in Texas near the water. We found groupings of sago, date, palmetto, saw, European fan, silver saw, maypan and the coconut palm. He has also fruit palms, which bear a fruit from which delicious jelly is made.

Palms stand erect sending all of their strength upward in one bold column and growing amid the dearth and destruction of land and elements. The palm tree can grow in the sand, but the sand is not its food. Water from beneath feeds its taproots and provides the nourishment and growth.

BCH_2015-0127-1The palm tree, standing majestic and erect, gives us a beautiful symbol of a believer who is depending on God as his source of strength. Strong, well planted and nourished believers can grow uprightly and under the greatest pressure rise upwards against pain, loss, and suffering to endure the strongest of storms. They are different in size, shape, and origin, just as humans are, some short, some tall, some wider, some more vibrant, different colors of green (and sometimes brown), and yet, each adds its own beauty and luster to otherwise barren land. They are survivors, just as we are in Christ. Each of these palms made it through Hurricane Ike, the Southeast Texas hot weather, the blowing winds off of Galveston Bay, and the bugs and pests that would destroy them.

How I thank God for each of these palm trees here on this land that I get to see and admire and how I am reminded of how different each of us are, and yet, we are all valuable. We are God’s children and He has a plan for us. Let’s not argue and fight about our differences in appearance, size, color, education, goals, drive, what we love or what we hate. Let’s just grow together, dotting the landscape with beauty and grace, and reaching out to offer solace, shelter, and hope to those who need it most.

Brenda Cannon Henley can be reached at (409) 781-8788, at
[email protected], or by using the contact form below.

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(This article published 1/26/2015)

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One Response to “Thank God for our differences – Lessons learned from palm trees”

  1. Brenda Beust Smith says:

    Your column almost made me cry. Growing up as I did, the daughter of a BOI, with his family (Beust) headquartered on Galveston Island, I was constantly surrounded by palms. As a child, I thought our Galveston palms were hideous. Couldn’t understand why anyone would plant them. Thought the flat coastal plains were horrible. So dull.

    Ah, the stupidity of youth.

    Then I married and we started traveling, pitching tents across mostly the western United States, up and down those mountains, up and down, so scary. After 8 years of that, I vividly remember driving over the Intracoastal Canal bridge at High Island, looking eastward and thinking that “God-stretched canvas” was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen. Nearly drove Husband berserk trying to get a picture of that view. Suddenly the Coastal Plains became my favorite place to be.

    Then we went to Hawaii, and again I fell in love, not with all the flowers (as magnificent as they were), but with the palms swaying in the breeze. I came home and found myself constantly looking upward at the swaying fronds and wishing I could (like the Hawaiians) interpret what they’re telling us.

    Then Ike hit, and we returned to our vacant sand-covered lot in Emerald 2. The whole peninsula looked like it had been sprayed with napalm. Everything was brown. Except the palms. They were (mostly) still standing tall, swaying in the breeze, almost as if they were politely covering their mouths as they yawned lazily, commenting “My, that was exciting.”

    Palms are now the closest plants to my heart. I can’t resist looking up at them. I don’t especially want one. I think of them like the exquisite wild birds of our peninsula, so beautiful,so tough, such incredible survivors. Wish they could teach us their secrets.

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