For several weeks now I have been passing by a house not far ours on my daily walks and observing a small apple tree in the yard. Like a tomato plant we grew this summer, both plants yielded only one fruit. Our tomato plant grew tall and heavy with leaves but, in the end, had one medium sized tomato that remained green for weeks. Every morning I would check its progress. But it was taking its own good time in coming into its fullness. I referred to it as our Zen tomato plant. The same has been true of this apple tree. It is a small tree that is now heavy with one rather large apple. I have watched it grow larger and larger as the branch bends with the heaviness of its fruit. Each day I have been drawn to its growth, the weight it is exerting on the tiny tree.

As I have observed it, I have thought about all the energy and nutrients that have gone into creating this one apple. I have been fascinated with the singular thrust of this tree. Some might think that the tree is deficient in some way to only produce one offspring. But I have been reminded of the artists, the writers, the farmers, the activists, the parents who have poured all their energy into creating one single, perfect, beautiful thing. While they may go on to create something again at another time, for this day, for this season, there is only the single-minded passion to produce one gift to the world. Unlike the common patterns around them, scatter-shooting ideas and plans, these are the people who can have a vision, hold onto it gently but firmly, and move methodically toward its creation, its fulfillment.  When you are in the presence of such people, it is pure gift. Pure gift to watch the calmness that grips them at some deep place, some Spirit place. Some commitment that allows them to keep their eye on the prize.

This little apple tree has reminded me of the sacrifice of bringing forth something beautiful in the world. Its branches(there are only about three) are pulled and contorted by the heaviness of its progeny. Many parents know this same pull. As does anyone who has labored over a dream. But, oh, the joy that comes from seeing the child, the painting, the project, the apple, come into its fullness. I dare say someone felt the same for each of us at one time. And so I am thankful for the gift of this little tree. For its persistence. For its hard work. For its lessons.

There is a song I learned years ago in the spiritual renewal weekend called Cursillo. It goes something like this: ‘Because you’re the apple of my eye, I’ve set you in a high place. You are my inheritance. You are all I could desire. And I promise to stay with you forever.’

For all the apples of their Creator’s eye, I am filled with awe and gratitude this day. Look around you because they are everywhere. Perhaps an offering of thanks is in order.

****I will be leaving this afternoon for a long awaited pilgrimage to holy places in Scotland. With the cooperation of wireless internet sites I can find, I will be posting on this blog a daily diary of our travels. I hope you can join us in this way as we walk the paths the faithful have walked for hundreds of years.