The difficult choices we make enable us to grow sweeter fruit
O
ur house came with lovely trees, including one near the side door that grew tall and strong. Each year, its inedible berries would fall like a purple-blue carpet on the steps near the kitchen door.
The kids liked the sound they made as they squished under their feet. This would be unremarkable, except for the impossible mess they made as the remnants of the berries made their way into the house… and onto our kitchen floor and the white carpet on the stairs. Not my idea of a good time.
After battling the stains for a couple of years, and becoming the carpet cleaner’s best customer, I was done. The tree had to go. I called the rabbi, got permission to have it cut down , and called the tree man. Having worked in a religious area for a while, the man asked me, “Ma’am, are you sure you’re allowed to cut that tree down?”
“Yes, certainly,” I replied determinedly. “Go ahead.”
When the deed was done, I was relieved at first… but then I grew sad. A thing of beauty was no more. I found myself wondering if I couldn’t have lived with the purple-blue footprints a little longer.
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