During holidays I think of my grandfather and grandmother the most. When I was a child, I always went to their house whenever school was out. Easter weekend was no exception and I would help my grandmother (or more likely get in her way) on Saturday as she prepared a huge meal to be served on Sunday afternoon to their nine children, the eight spouses, nineteen grands (including me), and a few friends.
My grampa would always coax me from underfoot with the need to drive to the store (where they sold cherry snow-cones) to pick up some mysterious forgotten item. I realized later he would see gramma getting frazzled at my unlimited questions and small clumsy hands causing extra work and he would rescue his "Maggie".
I don't know how many times he told me this legend (one of his favorites) as we puttered down the road in his old pickup, and I never tired of it. I hope you will enjoy it also and think of someone who once shared their love, time, and a special legend with you.
The Legend of the Dogwood Tree
by Unknown Author
Many years ago, a dogwood tree grew on a hill outside Jerusalem. In those days, the dogwood tree was as tall and mighty as an oak, and this tree was the tallest of all the dogwoods, and extremely proud of its strength.
"Something wonderful is going to happen to me," it said to anyone who would listen. "I'll probably become the mast that holds the big sail on a grand ship, or the main timber supporting a great house."
Unfortunately, the huge old dogwood was cut down to become the cross to which Jesus was nailed. The tree was horrified. All its dreams of glory were smashed, and it groaned in agony as two boards from its trunk were nailed together.
Jesus took pity on the tree, even as he carried it to Calvary. "You will never be put to such use again," He told it. "From this day on, your shape will change, even as will the world. You will become slender and sway easily with the breeze. And instead of acorns, you will bear flowers in the shape of a cross... with two long and two short petals. In the center of the outer edge of each petal, there will be nail prints... brown with rust and red with bloodstains to show the world how you have suffered.
"Last of all, the center of your flowers will be marked as though with a crown of thorns to remind people forevermore, that you and I spent our last moments together."
And so it was. And so it is.