A Fruitful Lesson | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: A Fruitful Lesson | Previous Challenge Entry
By Diane Daugherty
10/12/05
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I winced in pain as I felt the sharp sting of another plastic toy penetrate the delicate skin of my foot. I heard the resounding crack as the toy broke into even smaller pieces. I was always reminding my son to pick up all these things, but there were always a few misguided parts that remained behind, and invariably, I was the one to find them. The last time it happened, he stated rather matter of fact, “why don’t you watch where your walking, Mommy?” Nice suggestion, however, I am too busy carrying loads of laundry for five, or trying to insure that the dog does not trip me. Lately, I had become so overwhelmed by all the daily duties. I was always running here and there, doing many different things at once, and I could tell that I was always running. Where I was running to, I couldn’t tell anyone, least of all myself. I had grown completely out of touch. This is the servant life, I would tell myself. I could feel dissatisfaction brewing up from within me. A little internal voice asked “when does someone take care of you?” I pushed it down. I had no desire to deal with my internal questions. I always found myself in trouble whenever I listened to that inner voice.

I recalled the summer I turned twelve years old. My Dad had decided that the kids in the family needed to learn the value of hard work. I guess we hadn’t demonstrated any understanding of that concept with the chores that we already had to do, which was mostly housework and some outdoor lawn mowing. “This summer you two are going to learn what it really means to work hard.” I glanced over at my brother as we rode along in Dad’s pickup. I had noticed that Dad had tossed some buckets into the back of truck, but I had no idea what was going to happen. Dad pulled the truck onto an old field road. I looked out the window, and saw that we were entering the cherry orchards. My heart began to beat as I realized that the work Dad was talking about was picking cherries for the local orchard. Just then, the truck bumped to a stop, and Dad jumped out. “Come on out! Your Mom packed a lunch for you. Here’s your bucket. I’ll be back tonight!” That was it. I stared at my brother. “You have got to be kidding me!” I exclaimed. He shrugged, “well, I guess we’d better get started.”

For two weeks that was the routine. Rise early, pick cherries until lunch, take a short break, and then pick some more. My muscles ached, my hands turned black from the insect spray, and I couldn’t stand the sight of cherries. That Friday, Dad came to pick us up. He asked us how many buckets we had picked over the course of the two weeks. I had no idea. I wasn’t keeping track at all. I just wanted it to be over. He looked at me, and then down at a sheet of paper he was holding. “You picked over a hundred buckets of cherries! That’s about 10 buckets a day! Pretty good work!” He handed me a wad of money.
“What’s this for?” I asked.
“Well, you worked hard; don’t you think you should get paid?”
“I didn’t know we were getting paid for our work! I might have worked harder if I’d known that!”
“I thought that might be the case, but this is how life works. Sometimes you don’t know what your reward is going to be until you get it.”

I chuckled to myself as I thought through that whole scenario. Ok, Dad! I thought to myself. I think I get it now, twenty years later. All these little things that drive me crazy are a lot like those buckets of cherries. I just need to hold fast to the reminder that one day I will get my reward. If I keep up with the attitude I was drifting towards lately, that reward would be pretty meager. I felt my attitude shift. I had been acting like a child with respect to all my chores. I had great rewards ahead of me. One of which was teaching my own son the value of hard work. I sat down and started to plan just how I would accomplish that task.

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