My 90-year-old mom recently sighed, “I’m just a drag. I bring no value to you or the world.”
“Mom,” I said, “You’re like a tree.”
She looked at me intently, waiting for more.
“In the early years, trees need shelter, from weather, wandering cows, and enthusiastic children wielding sticks. Then, past the teenage years, they get stronger, start producing fruits and seeds by the thousands.
Eventually, though, the energy fades. Growth slows. But does the tree give up? No! It becomes something even more noble. It offers shade. It anchors the soil. It softens the wind. It becomes a refuge for the odd bird and a poetry-writing teenager.”
After a pause I said, “Mom, you were once the tree who bore fruit. Now, you’re the one who gives shade. You steady us. You keep the family from blowing over in the gusts. You are home.”
I saw tears in her eyes.
Maybe it’s time we change what we expect from our family elders. They’re not here to juggle, hustle, or ‘add value’ in some Silicon Valley sense. Their mere presence is the value. They are the soft breeze that settles us, the roots that hold us, the shade that lets us rest.
Let’s not expect them to produce fruit. Let’s sit under their branches.
I pray, your home be filled with love that stretches wide across generations, roots to crown.
Happy Mother’s Day, from my family to yours.
“Mom,” I said, “You’re like a tree.”
She looked at me intently, waiting for more.
“In the early years, trees need shelter, from weather, wandering cows, and enthusiastic children wielding sticks. Then, past the teenage years, they get stronger, start producing fruits and seeds by the thousands.
Eventually, though, the energy fades. Growth slows. But does the tree give up? No! It becomes something even more noble. It offers shade. It anchors the soil. It softens the wind. It becomes a refuge for the odd bird and a poetry-writing teenager.”
After a pause I said, “Mom, you were once the tree who bore fruit. Now, you’re the one who gives shade. You steady us. You keep the family from blowing over in the gusts. You are home.”
I saw tears in her eyes.
Maybe it’s time we change what we expect from our family elders. They’re not here to juggle, hustle, or ‘add value’ in some Silicon Valley sense. Their mere presence is the value. They are the soft breeze that settles us, the roots that hold us, the shade that lets us rest.
Let’s not expect them to produce fruit. Let’s sit under their branches.
I pray, your home be filled with love that stretches wide across generations, roots to crown.
Happy Mother’s Day, from my family to yours.
