Webster’s online dictionary defines windfall as “something (such as a tree or fruit) blown down by the wind” or “an unexpected, unearned, or sudden gain or advantage.” In reading this, I’m reminded of the horse chestnuts we gathered as children from my friend’s front yard or the hours we’d spend flinging the overly ripened fruit that littered the ground beneath the Crabapple tree that grew in the field across the alleyway behind our houses.

It seems as if a sizeable number of my childhood’s happiest memories are the product of some kind of windfall or another.

The same can be said of my carving, which almost exclusively sources its wood from fallen and donated trees. It’s reassuring to think that the beginning of so many afternoons in the woodshop can be traced back to the generosity of others.

One such benefactor gifted me with the spalted Butternut seen in the picture above. The two days I spent processing the wood yielded three large tubs of billets which are now waiting patiently on the floor of my shop alongside containers of Pennsylvania Cherry, Black Walnut, Sweetgum, and others that likewise ended up there through the agency of providence.

In my spiritual work, I’ve often been presented with the idea of honoring the gift; of discovering what it is we’re here to do, and making the choices that best serve whatever that happens to be. In this way, we shape – and are shaped by – the very essence of our existence.

I hope to remember this whenever I find myself picking up a slab of wood and setting to work on it with one of the many tools I’ve also received as a gift; to take the time to carve in a little bit of gratitude for the generosity that continues to make all of this possible…