Les Bois!

Trees have always held a strong significance in my life--for their beauty, their usefulness and the strong symbolism they represent.

When I was a counselor at Camp Soaring Hawk in the summer of '94, the camp director "Uncle Bob" challenged us one night to sit out and contemplate the role that Christ played in our life. As I sat alone under a large tree in the quiet darkness that early summer evening, my faith became real to me in a way that has shaped my life ever since.

Since then, I have enjoyed the scriptural references to trees--as life, health, security; I have celebrated the symbol of my personal faith in Christ in many ways--by hanging various forms of "the tree of life" on the walls of my home, by referencing the scriptural significance of the tree of life in my first novel and other writings, and by enjoying time among the trees as much as possible. I truly feel closest to God when I am alone in the woods.

When Scott and I moved to 20 Woodlawn, I loved that the property was hidden in a forest of trees. A hedge of tall magnolias hid the house from the road below; several large majestic coastal oaks graced the front yard; other specialty trees like the golden Ginkgo, a mature Japanese magnolia and the blood red Japanese maple heralded each season with their magnificent colors. 

Walking along Woodlawn was my favorite daily ritual--down to Barbour lake, the path surrounded by tall, fragrant green trees. It was restorative--this daily pilgrimage--even a form of worship that allowed me to commune with God uninterrupted.  

Leaving Woodlawn was one of the hardest things I've ever done. It had become our home, a sanctuary, and the place we had poured our heart and hard work into.

Scott has his own story of why he felt God was calling us to leave Yazoo City and go to Boise, but for me it was more a step of blind faith, submissively following my husband because I had no reason to insist that we stay. I was never afraid of the move, but simply chose to focus on living life in the present--in Yazoo City, trusting that God would find a way to confirm our decision to leave--in a meaningful way--when we finally arrived in Boise. As always, He didn't disappoint.

The day we drove to Boise from my parents home in southern Utah, I pulled up the history of our future hometown. Accounts differ about the origin of the name "Boise," but the stories most accepted hit home for me. The first account tells of Captain BLE Bonneville of the U.S. Army and his exploration party who had trekked for weeks through the dry and rough terrain of what is now southern Idaho. When they reached an overlook with a sweeping view of the Boise River Valley, a French-speaking guide--overwhelmed by the sight of the verdant river--yelled, "Les bois! Les bois!" ("The woods! The woods!"), and the name stuck.

Another account tells of the early mountain men, French-Canadian fur traders, who arrived in the 1820s to set their trap lines. Set in a high-desert area, the tree-lined valley of the Boise River became a distinct landmark, an oasis dominated by cottonwood trees. The men called this "La riviere boisee" which means "the wooded river."

I love that we have come to a city named for the beautiful sight of trees growing abundantly along a life-giving river. If I believed in omens, it would be the best kind! Instead, I choose to thank God for giving me this very personal, symbolic reminder of the life we have to look forward to--knowing that in Him, the true Giver of Life, we can grow and produce good fruit--if we remain fully rooted and established in Him.