Twenty-three years ago, my husband drove me to the back piece of property on the family farm. He pointed to a beautiful stand of hickory trees on a high hill that overlooked an open field. “One day I want to build a house here,” he told me.

I imagined a rustic cabin nestled among the fall foliage and the great shade those trees would cast over our future home. Tucked away at the end of a dirt road—our own little piece of heaven.

Two years later, we moved a single-wide onto the property with all the beautiful trees. We set the trailer in front of where we wanted to build our house and began dreaming about the day we could make our dreams come true. The years ticked by. And finally, we had the plan drawn up and broke ground on our house, exactly where we’d planned to put it all those years before.

The trees added shelter, protection from the elements, and lovely patches of shade. The colors of the hickories in the fall made it seem like we were in the mountains instead of North Florida.

But then Hurricane Idalia came through, followed by Debby, then Helene. These storms made direct passes over our small community and wreaked havoc on our trees. Trees went through roofs of family and friends, knocked down outbuildings, and wrecked vehicles. Whole neighborhoods were trapped until huge trees were removed from roads and whole stands of beautiful canopies were demolished.

Even our beautiful hickory grove was impacted. Not only the hickories, but also the pines, red oaks, and water oaks. Hanging branches, leaning trunks, and trees that died under the intense beatings now surrounded our house. Every thunderstorm caused alarm. Lightning flashes created hypervigilance. And high winds unnerved us. Our trees were no longer a protection and refuge. They were a problem.

This weekend, my husband took down three of our favorite trees because of the damage they received from the storms. The red oak by the house was dropping large limbs too close for comfort, our favorite hickory started leaning harder toward the house, and a water oak was simply dead. It’s hard to imagine that the trees were no longer good.

Just like the trees, there are people, places, jobs, activities, or organizations that once held high places in our lives. They were wonderful parts of our lives, cherished even. But often there comes a time when certain trees must be taken out, even though they held great value. Sometimes the trees are simply no longer good.

Change is hard, especially when it involves taking out long-esteemed trees. But the time comes when the trees are no longer good for us. Sometimes they’re dead and will take us down with them. Other times they are dropping limbs that result in personal casualties. And sometimes, they are leaning so hard toward us we are afraid they will crash and take everything, including us, with them.

It’s okay to say no. Not now. I can’t. I won’t. Or no more. Even if the tree has been there our entire lives. There comes a time when we can’t hold onto something or someone that could destroy us. Sometimes those trees become problems.

Do you have any trees that need to come down?