The Valiant Little Peach Tree

Sometimes you find yourself looking at the everyday and discovering more than you once saw. That is surely the case with the peach tree in our back yard.


We've just marked our 17th anniversary in this house and neighborhood. The peach tree has been with us since the beginning. It has withstood harsh winters, microbursts that uprooted other trees in the yard, Neal forgetting to water all the yard, and worst of all, devastating insect infestations.


Even though this close-up does not reveal the extent of the damage, if you look closely you can see how much of the trunk has been eaten away by the bugs--the monsters. We have tried to stop them and have probably slowed them down. But like the scariest aliens in the movies, they never entirely succumb.


Through it all, without fail, the little tree has blossomed every spring, stayed hardy through the summer, and given us beautiful and delicious fruit each fall. Even after the fruit is bottled and stored safely in the basement, it retains its beauty and flavor. But the best moment of all comes when you pick a peach, walk into the kitchen, take a bite, and let its natural sweetness melt in your mouth.

When we think of the tree, we are reminded of a few important human virtues--the things that hold families together and keep them strong.

First, we think of resilience. No matter what hits this little tree, it always comes back. Leaves may be a little thin one year, but the foliage emerges richer and thicker the next time around.

Second, we think of courage. This little tree not only takes everything nature can throw at it, but it also fights back. It refuses to diminish. It seems like it chooses to flourish.

Third, we think of persistence. Each year, the tree pushes through spring, summer, fall, and winter. This tree is not in the race for the short term. As we ride along with it over the long haul, we are inspired by its will to push on through all difficulties.

Fourth, we think of integrity. The tree knows who it is. It seems to be conscious of its strengths and uses them to fulfill the purpose of its life. It has no pretensions. We never come outside to find it wishing it were an oak, or a maple, or a birch.

Fifth, even as the tree attempts to survive by reproduction, it presents us with the gifts of its beauty and its fruit. With a nod to Shel Silverstein, ours is also a giving tree. It brings happiness to others. Sometimes, it feels like it loves us. And, of course, we love it.