Cherry Tree

There is a cherry tree in our back yard.

Even though it is an old tree, it is a new cherry tree to us.

For we moved into this, our new house, the end of last fall.

So from the very end of the last frosty morning of winter to the warm summer morning of today, I have watched as this tree has developed leaves, buds, fruit and color.

Dangly, round green fruit are gradually developing into the deep reddish cherries that I remember eating without reservation and much consequence as a child.

My children have never seen the wonder of fruit growing on a tree.

So they are mesmerized by these half green, half reddish balls, hanging so daintily.

It is more difficult NOT to pick them and feel them and taste them, then let them stay until they are deep, deep red and fully ripe.

“Can I please just eat this one?” my daughter asks.

Which is fine, I suppose.

Until she brings another and another and another to eat.

“Is it that hard to wait until the harvest?” I ponder. “They are just cherries.”

But my daughter has never seen a cherry like this before.

Growing and changing colors right before her eyes.

The wait is just too hard to endure for a five year old.

And I find myself understanding that in the planting and sowing and reaping and harvesting of my life, I get impatient, too.

Demanding tastes of fruit not yet ripe and asking a wise, experienced Father, “Can I please just have this one right NOW?”

Perhaps, through my daughter, He is asking me, “Is it that hard to wait until the harvest? You know that it will be much more than just cherries.”