Money Doesn't Fall With Trees
While driving in the area of our neighborhood megachurch this week, I made a startling discovery. Behind the wall of massive shade megatrees that have lined the megaparking lot for the last few decades, there is an impressive, imposing megastructure. But on this particular day, the megastructure was particularly megasparkly. The megasparkliness caused me to take notice of something. Or, rather, I noticed the absence of something. NO MORE MEGATREES! I had an unobstructed, megaview of the megachurch. Strangely, the loss of the megatrees hit me harder than the news of the recent loss of the church's megapastor. First, they were big shade trees, filtering the light radiating from the shiny white walls of the church building. Now everything in the area sort of reflects the building. It's like driving through a tanning bed. I always hate to see good trees go, especially without obvious reason, like, Hurricane Wilma. Second, they were sentimental trees. I'd stood under those tree...