The Pear Tree

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I have a pear tree.  Not a miracle in itself, but a tree that really shouldn’t be flourishing.  It sits in the middle of my yard and every other year or so it provides pears for us.  If you were to see it, you would think that it was a tree that should have died a long time ago.  I’m sure if I were to ask someone who specializes in trees what I should do with it they would tell me to cut it down.  It is hollowed out on the inside, yet the trunk continues to grow around this space.  Every year, for 14 or so, it continues to show it’s foliage.  I can’t see cutting it down when it obviously has the strength and determination to continue to grow.  If the simple, little, pear tree, can find that in itself, surely I can.

Sometimes, at various points of my life, I have felt hallowed out.  As if there was nothing left to give of myself.  When the depression descends on me it is a wonder I can find my way out of the hallowed out darkness of myself.  Amazingly, to me, I managed to continue on.  Truly, the only choice, a no choice, is death and if I can’t cut down a tree that, by all appearances, is dying, I most certainly can’t stop my life.

That hasn’t stopped me from hoping that I won’t wake up.  Just this morning, I read a quote about being thankful that you woke.  It hits me hard because I do not always feel that way.  I know I shouldn’t feel that way. You would think that by feeling that way, on occasion, that I hate my life, but I don’t.  I do not know why those thoughts plague my mind.  They creep in and I am ashamed that they are still there.

The depression has released me into some light.  I am smiling more.  I do not feel the casting of shadows that plagued me for nearly a year.  I am not feeling suicidal.  Still, when faced with writings being thankful for being alive, or some mornings waking up, I am disappointed.  

I was thinking that way when I drove my lawn tractor pass the little pear tree.  It isn’t the biggest or best tree of my yard, but it seems the hardiest.  It clings to life despite whatever ate at it’s insides over the years.  This year it bore fruit.  It doesn’t do that every year.  I noticed, that despite how it’s trunk looked, the leaves were full, the fruit was plenty.  It hung in through all the seasons to give me fruit.  

I relate to that tree.  I feel hallow, but I hang in there.  I have done everything I need to do and I am still doing so to fight against the changes of seasons of my life.  I am in therapy.  I take medication.  I may not think I’m put together but I am whole.  Perhaps as whole as I will ever be.  That tree’s trunk will never be filled, but it has learned to grow around it.  I will learn to grow around it and thrive despite of it.

Most importantly I have learned that, though my life is not perfect, it is perfectly mine.  I may never get rid of the dark thoughts entirely.  Still I have that pear tree.  It will hang in there with me proving that life is worth living and through that, and many other ways, I will know I am blessed.

4 responses »

  1. Pingback: Photographers, Pastors, Bipolar Med Students, Editors, and others: Featuring Followers VI | A Way With Words

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