My first grade teacher Mrs. Davidson once said, "If you want to see a whole world of busy in one small spot, look under the limbs of a mangrove." We were on a field trip the day she said that. We all peered over at the long spindly legs of those beautiful trees and chattered excitedly about what type of animals might be living in there even as our boat sailed past. "Sharks! Snakes! Spiders! Goldfish!" Everyone piped out an answer for her to hear. We loved Mrs. Davidson. She had a no nonsense manner about her and at the same time a kindness that leant towards letting 7 year olds behave like 7 year olds. A quality that is surprisingly rare amongst first grade teachers. She was the tallest person I had ever seen, with a fluffy poof of salt and pepper hair perched on her head. She loved flamingoes. They covered our classroom, she used them as examples on every subject imaginable. She even had a furry flamingo and a plastic flamingo to pass around for the story of Jacob and Esau. We would always try our best to learn things that would please her.
When I was 7, I was something of a tiny Dr. Dolittle. I loved animals, all of them. Whenever it rained during our morning lessons, I would dash out of the classroom as soon as we were dismissed so I could collect all the earthworms that had ventured onto the sidewalks. I would stuff as many as I could into my pockets to keep the boys in my class from killing them. This was probably the biggest reason why the girls in my class tended not to befriend me, I carried those worms in an empty potato chip bag all day long until I felt it was safe enough to release them somewhere. I still remember the substitute teacher that barked, "no food in class!" and grabbed my bag away from me, she turned positively green the moment she peered into that squirming bag of Lays. I believe that was the moment when my love for torturing substitute teachers was born. But back to Mrs. Davidson.
She not only understood why I saved earthworms, she liked me for doing so. We went on another field trip later on in the year to an amphibian farm. No one was allowed to touch any of the animals. But Mrs. Davidson called me up to the front and let me hold a big bullfrog in front of the class because she knew how much I would love it. No one else got to hold it and I felt so special.
So when Mrs. Davidson told us about mangroves I was nearly jumping out of my skin to tell her everything I knew about them. If I remember correctly, my Dad had to physically restrain me lest I jump overboard to explain that mangroves were nurseries and not a place where sharks and snakes were likely to hang out. I have had a life long love of them since. I always think of her when I see them too. Mangroves remind me of little families and protection. They remind me of very tall teachers with souls that understand the imaginations of children.
Today we went for a hike. A sweaty, dirty, miserably hot, mosquito infested hike that would have been horrible except that we journeyed through a veil of mangroves. We each strapped a boy to our bodies and headed down the long path with thousands of mangroves huddled around us, arching their legs and standing on their tiptoes. I would stop every few minutes, peering into the salt water hoping for a glimpse of something tiny and miraculous. The genuine discomfort almost melted away in the face of so much natural creativity. One of my favorite things about God is the way that he chose to delight us with creation. It could have all been very slap dash, minimal effort, just get the job done. But the intricacies of Earth are a love song for His beloved children. Anyone that wants to understand this world as a loud bang and a bunch of monkeys, you go right ahead, I won't even bother to argue with you. I prefer to look at a mangrove and the small universe it holds in the safety of its roots and feel loved. Cherished, by all the bother and planning around the planet meant solely to please and delight His children.
J and the Bear hiking through the mangroves.
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