George Of The Jungle: Watch Out For That … Tree

God loves each one of us as if each one of us were the only one.

“How precious are your thoughts concerning me, O God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of

sand.” Psalm 139:18 When I was 8 years old, I decided that I would try to be Tarzan. You know, in the movies, gravity doesn’t seem to be as big a problem as in real life.

My grandfather had a huge Magnolia tree, which are awesome for young boys. Not only do the branches grow in all different directions, but they make great big cones that look exactly like grenades. You can even pop the top off before you throw them.

So, I had just got through watching George of the Jungle. If you’ve never seen the cartoon, there really is no explaining it other than, “Watch out for that tree!”

I stripped down to my skivvies and went and got a towel from my grandfather’s bathroom and wrapped it around my waist like a loincloth. Another thing they don’t mention in the movies is that trees have a tendency to scrape. Especially when you’re hugging them barechested and bare-footed.

I climbed up the Magnolia tree. When I got to the safety of three branches coming together I tied off the old rope from our swing. Another little side note. Now they’re all smooth nylon. Back then I think they were made from old dry straw that stuck out when they got frayed a bit.

By now I was bleeding from several scrapes across my chest and arms. My bare feet had little puncture marks from the rough bark and my thighs were red from friction burns. But hey, I had my rope!

So I jumped off with rope in hand and yelled, “Watch out for that… …!!!!” Then gravity kicked in. For one glorious second I was hanging in mid- air and swinging like George of the Jungle. But that instant flittered away and all of a sudden the rope fibers started to dig into my hands and the rope went one way and I the other. (If straight down is a direction.)

After I recovered, I crawled to the safety of the tree trunk and started to pant. I remember wiping the sweat from my forehead and thinking to myself, “Wow that’s a lot of sweat” before realizing that it wasn’t sweat, but blood. I had gashed my forehead pretty good.

I collected myself as much as I could before walking in to tell my parents that George of the Jungle is a lie. They scooped me up and off we went to the emergency room. When we got there, the nurse on duty shook her head and went and got me a hospital gown to put on. I’m sure I was a sight to see. I had lost my loincloth somewhere along the way. All I had on was my underoos. My calves and thighs were bleeding from the friction of climbing the tree. My chest and stomach had scratch marks from the rough bark and my hands were a mangled mess from the rope fibers. (Which the doctor took way too much pleasure in picking out the fibers by the way.) Oh, and I was covered in blood from the gash on my head.

I remember the nurse coming over to my nerve rattled mom and saying, “Honey. I’ve got two boys. I know.”

That’s when I learned that we just don’t have one set of parents. Any adult who has kids knows the trials parents go through and they are all your Mom and Dad when you’re hurting. Whether it be the nurse at the emergency room or the Sunday School teacher listening to your story. God made us to where our hearts always hurt when we see kiddos in pain and ache when we see parents concerned.

God made us in His own image.