Page 2 of To the Moon and Back
Amy read her mother’s words, written next to the photo: “ Me at the survivor tree. With God, there is always a way to survive. I love this living reminder.”
Amy ran her fingers over the image and then lightly over her mother’s words. Her mama was tender. That’s what Aunt Ashley said. She had a heart deeper than the ocean. No wonder she and Amy’s daddy went to the memorial site while they were in Oklahoma.
Amy hadn’t heard of national memorials until last fall, when her history class was studying them. But the idea filled her heart. Places of recognition and honor for very great losses suffered by Americans.
A few weeks after that lesson in class, Amy was looking through her photo albums when she saw the picture of her mother at the Survivor Tree. She Googled what had happened that day.
That’s when she found the history of the Oklahoma City bombing. And the tree.
Amy looked out the window at the storm clouds drifting closer. The tree had been there before anyone thought about putting a federal building on the site. When it came time to pave a parking lot, someone must’ve decided the tree was too pretty to cut down.
So they built around it.
And that’s how the tree stayed for lots and lots of years. Decades, really. Right up until the bomb went off. The bomb was so big it had something called shock waves. It meant that cars parked nearby exploded and the tree caught fire. Pieces of glass and metal from the blast shot out and struck the old elm’s base. Most of its branches were cut off by flying debris. When the dust settled, all that was left was a smoldering, blackened, barren trunk.
In the weeks that followed, the people cleaning up after the bomb intended to cut the old tree down. The elm was dead, they figured. Of course it was dead. But they left it standing because of the glass and metal lodged in its bark. The way the pieces were positioned told investigators what they needed to know about the location of the bomb.
So since the tree trunk was evidence, it stayed.
Then something beautiful happened. On the one-year anniversary, survivors of the bombing and family members of the victims, as well as firefighters and police officers, all gathered at the old parking lot to remember.
That’s when a police officer noticed something amazing about the tree. Sprigs of green were coming from the bark. The tree was alive! Horticulture experts were called in to tend to the tree and help nurse it back to health. The glass and metal were removed from the trunk and the tree was fed good nutrition. One year led to another and its branches began to grow again.
Today it was one of the biggest, most beautiful trees in Oklahoma City. Each spring workers at the memorial swept up seeds from the boughs. The seeds were grown into saplings, and every year those little baby trees were given out to people who wanted them.
People who had survived something.
People like Amy.
It was just as her mama had said all those years ago. The Oklahoma City tree was proof that with God, there was always a way to survive.
So Amy had gotten an idea, and a few months ago she shared it with her aunt. Maybe they could go to the memorial site for spring break, and maybe Amy could get one of the saplings.
She could plant it out back near her Grandma Elizabeth’s flower garden, and it would grow and give shade and comfort and a reminder of the family she’d lost. Then Amy would have her own Survivor Tree.
For spring break, they had been planning to visit Branson, Missouri, and Silver Dollar City and spend time on a houseboat on Table Rock Lake. But her Aunt Ashley and Uncle Landon talked about it and decided, yes, they would go a little further and visit the Oklahoma City National Memorial, too.
They were going with Amy’s Aunt Kari and Uncle Ryan and their family. Two cars, caravan-style. Aunt Ashley said that on the day they’d visit the memorial it would just be the two aunts and the older kids. The younger kids would go with the uncles to Frontier City for rides and stuff.
The memorial would be too sad for them.
But it wouldn’t be too sad for Amy. She wanted to be there, wanted to see the empty chairs and tall gates that had been built in honor of the victims. She could hardly wait to stand next to the tree and feel its trunk against her hands.
The way her mama had felt it.
Because the tree’s roots really had taken hold of her. And somehow, she knew that God was letting her go there, not only to see the tree. But to learn something from Him.
Something about surviving.
2
T he guys made the decision to leave at six in the morning that Saturday. Ashley Baxter Blake wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but by the time they were on the road the sense of adventure had gripped them all. Even her.
The older kids had agreed to turn off their cell phones until after dinner each day. So they used walkie-talkies to keep up with their cousins in the other car. The old-fashioned way, as the kids had said earlier.
“We’re stopping for gas at the next exit, right, Dad?” Cole shifted forward and looked at Landon.
“Yes, sir! Next exit!” Landon grinned.
