Ivy League of my own

In my early teens, we lived in a village called Chester. It is located between Richmond and Petersburg, Virginia. Which means it’s in the heart of colonial and antebellum history and culture. During those years, I grew a fondness for Hedera Helix, English ivy, not as dietary fiber but for its dark green leaves and ability to grow horizontally and vertically. This determined plant has a strong desire to overcome any challenge to its growth. Drought, deluge, or pruning knife never impeded its propensity to firmly attach itself to and completely hide whatever was within its reach.

During this period, I became aware of the “Ivy League” schools in the Northeast. Not that I had any aspirations of getting beyond middle school at the time. If there was college in my future, it would be some school in the dandelion or wild onion league.

According to Britannica the term “Ivy League” was coined by Stanley Woodward of The New York Herald Tribune in 1933 as he covered the football games among eight elite universities in the northeast. Those colleges had an annual “Ivy Day” when ivy was planted on the campuses. Ivy was chosen to symbolize the enduring growth expected from its facility, students, and alumni.

In the spring of 1963, the Baldwin clan followed Dad to Tullahoma, Tennessee, where my high school career began. By my senior year, we ended up in a house at 111 Stone Boulevard. The right half of the front of our house had a two-story solid brick wall. My mom thought it made the house look odd, and it did. Her solution was to plant English ivy at the base of the wall. It wasn’t long before Dad had to climb a ladder annually to chop the ivy just below the eve to keep it from covering the gutter and roof. I loved that ivy-covered wall.

Fast forward to our current house. Just after Drew, our middle child, finished Union University, he hung around Jackson, Tennessee, waiting for his sweetheart to finish her degree. He got a job at a custom cabinet business. Drew’s woodworking skills grew almost as fast as his relationship with his girl. Jan and I became beneficiaries of his skills by the gift of a raised planter box (not to mention the gift of an extraordinary daughter-in-law).

Several years ago, I started my own “Ivy League” by confiscating the box to grow English ivy. Since then, the box has sat on our front porch during the spring, summer, and fall and under a window in the garage during the winter. I’m looking at it as I write. (I’m on the front porch, not in the garage.)

I still remember Dad on that ladder chopping the ivy back. As a result, I am resolute that my ivy will stay in its planter box. When a tentacle of ivy reaches out of its box to claim fresh territory for itself down on the ground, I will bring it back up and tuck it back in the box. (I can’t bring myself to put a pruning knife to it.)

Some characteristics of humans manifest themselves in ivy. Desires we have and enjoy and benefit from can get out of their “box.” They can move from luscious adornment to demanding parasites in a matter of seconds.

I drove past Mom and Dad’s house a few years ago to discover the ivy had been removed from the face of the brick wall. I could tell, however, that ivy had been on the bricks by the tiny fragments of the vines “attachers” remaining fixed in the brick’s pores. The vines are gone, but the memory remains. That’s true with my unleashed desires.

Our Creator knows that about us. That’s why the “Law” was given, to alert us when our desire is about to crash into His desire. Humans don’t like to be put in containers. We like to explore life. That, in itself, is a good thing. The problem is that our enthusiastic exploration left to itself will take us from the light of prosperity to the darkness of selfishness. Our roots are secure in their suckering from the sweet earth, but our tentacles attach themselves to whatever pleases us at the moment.

I know this sounds like subservient surrendering our freedom to pursue life as we want to. But such restrictions imposed on our “liberty” will inevitably end in the dungeon of addictive self-destruction.

I think this is what stimulated Jesus to teach what Matthew recorded in Matthew 5:29-30.

 If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of the parts of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of the parts of your body than for your whole body to go into hell (CSB)

Photo – My ivy! Yes, that is a Christmas tree on the right side. Several months have passed since this post’s writing. I usually wait until sustained freezing temperatures are forecasted before moving the Ivy.