Martha The Peach Tree

Any tired mama hearts out there?  This one’s for you.

I’ll start by sharing with you that ours is a super-creative household.  My little loves wear swim goggles to the breakfast table, pajamas to the grocery store (a hill I decided not to die on), and ballet tutus to bed.

We have a stuffed turtle named Lucy, a butterfly-lawn ornament named Aurora, and an imaginary bunny who goes by Adella.  It’s still unclear how the peach tree in our backyard was given the name “Martha.”  I’m sorry… actually, it’s “Princess Martha the Peach Tree.”

The peach tree that’s withstood two frozen Midwest winters since we came here, that’s faithfully blossomed lovely little pink and white flowers each spring, but that has yet to yield a peach worth eating.

You see, I have this bad habit.  We’ve moved quite frequently due to work, yet that doesn’t stop me from planting at least one fruit tree each time we move.  I know what the experts say… fruit trees take at least five years to produce.  “Not this one,” I think.  “Not my peach tree.  My peach tree is different.  My peach tree will get lots of sunshine and lots of water and we will have juicy ripe fruit in a year!”

But that skinny little tree out there, stubborn as it is to stand tall in our frozen winters, hasn’t yet been stubborn enough to defy science.

We looked at it through the kitchen window one day, my husband and I.  He asked me something like, “Do you think that tree will ever bear fruit?”  I gave him a sad smile, accepting that gardening is not my calling, and said, “I think someone else is going to enjoy the fruit from that tree.”

And we both fell silent for a moment.

Because isn’t that just like parenting?

Mamas, we work hard to tend to our little seedlings.  When sibling rivalry rears its head and tries to plant a seed of bitterness in their hearts, we weed faithfully, teaching them to value one another.  When worries and uncertainties come in like so many monsters in the night, we clear the fear with faithful love, we clear the branches up above, so that sunshine may come in.  When she needs a friend, or an outlet for her energy, or just a little extra attention, we see the need, and we pour in what we have, like water from a garden hose.

And after all the pouring, all the weeding, and the sowing… we expect to see some fruit.

Oh, there are some moments in parenting when we do see the reward of the pouring-in we’ve done.  Like when the weeks of potty training pay off and your toddler uses the bathroom independently.  Or when your four year-old comes up to you with a hug and an “I love you, Mom.”  Or when your six year-old does wrong but knows it, like mine did today, and she comes to you and confesses with a kiss and an “I’m sorry.”

Yes, there are moments with a big payoff in parenting.  And of course we hope to see more fruit in the future.  We hope that all the little moments of love will add up… that the years of listening, of teaching, of time spent together, of memories made, will add up into a friend.  I can picture myself attending my son’s baseball game, I can see myself shopping with my daughters, twenty years from now.

Yes, there is fruit that we parents may see, may feel, may taste.

But ultimately, that’s not why we do what we do.

The hope of happy relationships with our children in the future is a good thing… a healthy thing.  But there is a much more real, much more practical, much more crucial reason for all the pouring-in.

It’s for their future families.

If you’ve been a mother for any length of time, I’m willing to bet you’ve read “Love You Forever,” by Robert Munsch.  A tearjerker, that one, every single time. The author tells the tale of a mother who gets frustrated, sometimes even fed-up, with her son’s antics, just like you and I do.  She’s not perfect, she’s real; but she consistently, faithfully pours love into the one who means the most.

I’m always struck by the ending.  The son goes to his mother, holds her and sings to her after learning she is ill… then goes home and stops at the top of the stairs.  He then enters his new baby daughter’s room to hold her, rock her, and sing the same little song his own mother whispered over him as a boy.

And that’s really what all that pouring-in was for, anyway.  That he might go home, pause a moment, and pass on the legacy of love.

Yes, he was a dutiful son.  Yes, he visited and cared for his mother.  But the one who benefitted most from all the love poured in was the little girl resting in her crib, the little girl who needed her daddy.  And he was ready to love because love was what he knew.

Mamas, I know we all face frustrations in our parenting days.  But stepping back to remember the big picture… to remember that all this pouring-in isn’t just for the now, it’s for our child’s future family…for the little girl in the crib twenty-some years for now… it can help us persevere.

Because we will sometimes feel drained from all the giving, all the serving… and when we do, it helps to remember who the pouring-in is really for…

Do you find yourself digging deep for patience for the toddler who’s tantruming for the umpteenth time in one day?  The repeat occurrence doesn’t mean she doesn’t hear you… it means she’s a toddler.  And your grandchildren will thank you for giving hugs when hugs were all that was needed.

Have you encouraged him to be brave, it’s ok, on the swings at the park, the doors of his preschool class, any time he’s handed to someone new?  Do you wonder how many more times you will have to speak words of courage into his little soul?  The fact that the words need repeating doesn’t mean that there’s something wrong with him… or you.  It means you’ve been given a chance to speak life to a little one who needs it.  And one day, his spouse will thank you for the words you spoke.

Is today the millionth time you asked her to slow down, and please listen?  Did your own sigh of exasperation threaten to carry away with it your very resolve to keep teaching?  Dear Mama: Words Repeated doesn’t mean you’ve failed.  It means you’ve been given a special child who just may use all that energy to change the world one day.  And wherever she effects change, the little seeds of persistence you’ve sown will start to sprout.

When we stand by our children, no matter what… when we persist in speaking the words of life that are so needed… when we faithfully, lovingly, pour in, even and especially when we don’t see fruit… we’re taking the opportunity to show them what their Heavenly Father is like.  The One who made them, who loves them unconditionally, who will never forsake them, no matter what.  The One who is faithful to teach us again, and again, and again, when the same lesson needs repeating.  The One who is faithful to pour love, over and over and over again, because His love never runs dry.

Friends: Do you feel this way too?  Do you long to see your hard work bear some fruit?  If you’re like me, we’re not alone.  I would highly recommend reading Ruth Simons‘ blog.  She has an incredible vision for motherhood that makes you catch your breath with the sweetness of the Gospel… a sweetness that, yes, can be found in the midst of the messes and stresses of our days.

Update:  Martha has grown three very small peaches.  Whether they will be juicy and sweet remains to be seen.

“He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 1:6).

With love for the One who’s never given up on us,

Laura Jane