“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.
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