.:LESSONS FROM A TINY TREE:.

For her first winter solstice, I decided not to buy toys.

I knew I wanted to give her something alive.

Something that would grow alongside her.

Although I never felt drawn to the tradition of cutting down a tree for the holidays, I also knew I didn’t want to bring home something temporary.

If we were going to have a tree, I wanted it to live.

And if possible, I wanted it to give back.

So for her first solstice, she received only one gift.

A tree.

We made a day of it and drove into the mountains to visit a local nursery.

Watching her explore the rows of trees was one of those simple moments that somehow becomes unforgettable. She looked around for only a short while before reaching toward a tiny peach tree, almost as though she had already decided it belonged to her.

And just like that, the choice was made.

It felt right.

—

Peaches held meaning for me long before that day.

They reminded me of Texas, where she was born, and of a small town that had always brought me peace. But standing there with my daughter, choosing that little tree together, it felt less like holding onto old memories and more like creating new ones.

Perhaps that is what healing often looks like.

Not erasing the past, but allowing something beautiful to grow from it.

When we brought the tree home, we cared for it together every day.

We watered it.

Talked to it.

Showed it love.

And even then, I knew it was symbolic.

Not because I expected immediate fruit, but because I understood that growth takes time.

Perhaps all acts of care are really acts of faith and trust that what would occur naturally, and with time, would eventually take place...

—

A few months passed…

And eventually, to our excitement, the little tree began producing fruit.

A total of six months had came and went, and watching her harvest those peaches brought me so much joy.

Not because of the peaches themselves, but because of what they represented.

Gratitude. Patience. Abundance…

And the quiet reward that comes from tending to something with love.

What made it even more meaningful was that the harvest arrived around the same season that marked one year since making the decision to choose peace and begin rebuilding our lives.

—

One year earlier, so much had felt barren.

My sense of home.

My vision for the future.

My trust.

Even parts of myself…

Not dead or ruined.

Just simply between seasons.

And perhaps that is what the little tree taught me.

That barren is not the same as hopeless.

Sometimes life appears quiet because growth is happening beneath the surface.

Sometimes healing asks us to trust what we cannot yet see.

Looking at that little tree, I realized that if we continue watering what truly matters, it will grow.

Progress may be slow…

And sometimes the changes are so small they are easy to miss.

But growth is still growth.

Perhaps we don’t need to have everything figured out.

Perhaps we simply need to keep showing up.

To keep tending. To keep trusting…

And to remember that some of the sweetest fruit in life comes from things that once appeared barren.

—

+The peaches were tiny, but they were SO good

++I’m excited to see what tree she’ll choose for summer solstice!