Papa Trees

Thanksgiving for God's care in a business we didn't want | Barbara Curtis

In 1983 my husband Tripp started taking care of trees to tide us over between jobs on the San Francisco Bay. As more and more tree work came in, and as it became clear that his long-dreamed-of maritime career was just not going to happen, I remember my husband balking, grumbling, but finally submitting to something that seemed almost preordained.

He remembers that moment of acceptance clearly. Absorbed in self-pity as he wrestled with an unruly hedge and with God, he demanded the reason why he wasn't on the sea. "Am I supposed to be stuck in these trees the rest of my life?"

He says the answer came instantly-a feeling of peace. The next day a customer called him "Mr. Trees," thus christening his company. The next week he summoned every ounce of courage and hired his first full-time employee. The next month he took a deep breath and started paying for insurance and payroll taxes. He studied for and obtained his certification and contractor's license. The next year he offered fully paid benefits to his employees.