On several occasions, we Nymans have been criticized for having such a big family. “Seven kids? What a giant environmental footprint you’re leaving.”

I have a friend who was walking into the Field Museum with her seven kids when she was approached by a stranger. “Are these all yours?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Then you’re breathing more than your fair share of the earth’s oxygen.”

It was rude and inaccurate, spoken like the disgruntled person she probably was, but it gave me an idea. Each of our children should plant a tree. It would give off oxygen and take in some of the carbon dioxide they breathed out. It would also provide a snap answer to a criticism, should another come.

Even though every human being would need to plant an entire acre of trees to bring balance to the O2-CO2 ratio, we could at least participate symbolically. We decided to let each of our kids plant a tree in the yard just as they were leaving home for college or other pursuits at 18.

Nelson was the first and chose a weeping willow. He knew they were fast-growing and loved the sweeping branches. His willow sapling had a trunk no thicker than his finger but true to its reputation, grew tall quickly. When we moved recently, it had grown into a healthy specimen of 50 feet, its “weeping” branches long and strong.

Two years later, Lars chose a sour-cherry tree, because he loved cherry pie. His tree also started small, and although it yielded a small cherry crop each year, the birds always got them before we did. Several years in, it began to suffer and eventually died. We quickly replaced it with a same-size, same-kind of tree, and it’s been growing well since then.

Linnea’s tree is a resurrection story. Because she loved apples, she chose a golden delicious tree, but our high-strung dog Penny spent hours gnawing its branches until only a stump remained. Surprisingly, after Penny died, the stump began growing again, eventually flourishing and producing apples.

Klaus chose a peach tree. The first spring it produced literally hundreds of peaches, too great a burden for such a little tree. We plucked off buckets of ping-pong sized fruit, leaving about 20 peaches to grow to full size. Even then, the little branches needed wooden supports, but the peaches were big and juicy.

Hans admired Nelson’s weeping willow and followed suit. We planted it in a sloppy downpour the morning he left for his Tennessee university, and after a minor set-back, his tree has grown quickly and flourished.

Louisa chose a decorative crab with giant white blossoms. Shaped like an umbrella with its branches cascading like falling water, it found a home in the center of the front yard where I enjoyed its beauty from the kitchen sink. Sadly, the week after we moved, someone dug it up one night and stole it. Only the hole was left, a bizarre end to a short story.

Birgitta chose a mighty oak no taller than she was but with the potential to outlast all the others. The day we dug its hole, we’d gotten two feet deep when we hit a rock. In a half-acre yard, we’d chosen the exact spot where a three-foot wide boulder was hiding. Digging a second hole, we set her oak in full sun, and it’s gaining steady growth every year.

Each tree choice reflects the personality of its buyer, and I hope as the years pass and the trees continue to grow, our kids will give God the credit. I also hope they’ll appreciate the variety in his creation and will point to him as they “show off” their trees one future day.

But we’ll have to come up with a better ending for Louisa’s story.

“The seeds of good deeds become a tree of life.” (Proverbs 11:30a)