PIES, PLAYING GAMES AND PRUNING

We had a big mulberry tree in our front yard growing up with messy purple fruit that stained our feet when we played under its leaves. After dinner we would go out there to a game of kickball with second base under the trunk of that tree. When dusk finally drove us into the house we'd have to scrub our feet raw; I'm not sure why, but we never thought to wear shoes. I mostly remember hiding. I'd crawl up and shelter myself under the big leafy branches and try to peer through to see the blue sky. I would go there when I was frightened, lonely, needed to think. I could see and hear most everything, but didn't have to respond.

How interesting now, that a lifetime has passed, I am asked to be a tree- the kind that shelters a family, welcomes home, protects and provides nurture and roots for those who fly away. 

We'll pick apples this coming weekend in a glorious orchard sitting above acres of crimson forests; it's the season to pick apples. It is my season to live the tension of letting go and welcoming, of growing and pruning. I must wake up and live in the life I have been given, my roots going deep into God's love, no more picking fruit from the childhood tree that hid me. I never did like mulberry pie. I have always created what I loved and this will mean apple pie, not a seedy purple pie, and peach jam not blackberry, salsa not canned tomatoes. I have choices that call me to my true self and to embracing what I love, who I love and how I am loved.

I wonder what you are creating and what fruit you are using?

Medicine from Sacred Scripture:

 “He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in due season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers.” Psalm 1:3