“Millions of Peaches. Peaches for Free.” That song seems to be the only one going through my head right now. Jason was singing it a few days ago and the kids thought that he was crazy, even crazier than they originally believed. Of course in our “Advanced Years,” the music we know and the music that they know are not always the same. But even that song is way beyond our usual musical vocabulary. Why was he singing it you ask? Because our house is filled with millions of peaches, all of which were free.
Last week every time that the wind blew, which it does a lot in Nebo Heights where we live, I would look up at our peach tree and beg it to stop dropping fruit. I wasn’t ready for it to be ripe. I was already putting up salsa and grape juice and didn’t have time for more. But it didn’t listen to me and eventually I went out and picked up all the fallen peaches and saved the ones still on the tree, that is with the help of my daughters in and amongst the rain and some lightening I might add. Now why that tree wouldn’t listen to me, I don’t quite understand. After all I am the one that waters it and feeds it fertilizer in the spring and in the fall and keeps the grass and weeds free of its base. You would think that it would be a little beholden to me, at least a little bit.
Then again, perhaps it was thinking to itself, not out loud of course because peach trees cannot talk, “Why can’t you just be happy that I paid you back for all of your hard work with hard work of my own? See all of these beautiful peaches? I made them just for you.”
I think more often than not I am that way about life. “Why God can’t you give me what I asked for. I’ve read my scriptures and said my prayers. I’ve been going to church and fulfilling my callings. I’ve given service and called a neighbor in need. I’ve done all of this hard work, and what have you done for me?”
Now I don’t come right out and say that. In reality I try very hard to remember everything that he has done for me, but sometimes, way too many times, I ask for things in an attitude of expectation instead of gratitude and humbleness.
So perhaps I should say to that tree, “Thank you for your nice fruit that you are giving to me. Perhaps it is not the right timing for me, but you know best when your fruit is ready and I am more than happy to reap the rewards.”
And perhaps when blessings come upon me and opportunities to serve present themselves, instead of wishing that maybe they could spread themselves out a little bit so that they don’t seem more like chaos instead of blessings, I should just be happy for the goodness that God has showered upon me and when I fall into bed at night exhausted beyond wonderful belief, I should thank him for the blessings that filled my day, chaos that they might be, blessings still the same.
“Millions of Peaches,” Millions of Blessings, but never for free. I will try to remember that. Christ paid a price. And everything he gives us, every mistake that we are forgiven of. None of that came for free.
Now I’m off to clean the stickiness from my counters and stack the endless jars of peach pie filling, grape juice, grape jelly, and salsa along my shelves in my storage room. And as I look at all the pretty colors of all the canning that I have done smiling back at me, I will try to thank the peach tree instead of criticizing it.