The Parable of the Pear Tree

“I almost remember the year my grandparents moved in next door.  It’s a little hazy in my mind’s eye, because I was still young.  I remember my grandmother bringing her collection of seeds and, what I thought to be, tiny sticks.  I recall my grandfather shaking his head.  ‘Maude,’ he would say.  ‘Those cuttings won’t grow here!  The climate is all wrong.”    My grandmother would just shake her head and smile.

‘You never know until you try,’ she replied brightly, undeterred. 

Year after year, she would work in her garden, feeding and nurturing her seeds.  Laboriously, she proved my grandfather wrong.  One day I watched her as she watered what appeared to be a small, but strong growing tree.  Yet, as the garden bloomed every spring, flowers blossomed, and vegetables ripened, the stubborn tree never seemed to do anything.  It just existed.  All around it was brilliant life, and fruit.  To my inexperienced eyes, the tree was neither beautiful nor useful.  The odd thing, however, was that it was on this tree that my grandmother poured the majority of her time and attention.

As a child I enjoyed the summer tomatoes and fall raspberries.  We carved the garden’s pumpkins in the fall.  And the tree still stood.  Finally, around the garden’s fourth year, when I was old enough to voice my opinion in the intelligent way early teenagers often do, I asked her, ‘Why do you spend so much time on that boring tree?  It just stands there.  You should just take it out and plant something fun there.  Maybe an apple tree!’

My grandmother stopped her work and smiled at me.  ‘Amelia,” she said.  “I know this tree doesn’t look like much now, but it has a surprise hidden deep inside of it.  If I give up now, we’d never see the amazing things it has to produce!’

Little did I know just how long it would take.  After nearly twelve years, the tree finally began to fruit.  Tiny, pearly pears began to grow.  The pears were, by far, the most delicious and famous of all the fruit in my grandmother’s garden.  And although she is gone, those pears are her legacy to this day.  Every spring her garden still blooms and the pears delight both children and adults alike in my parent’s neighborhood.  Her life lesson to me?  Never give up.  Great things may take time, but they are well worth it.”