When the Carambola Dies

Years ago, when my kids were little, we brought a young tree home. It was a Carambola (a starfruit tree). We discussed where we wanted to plant it and decided on a spot in our front yard. We dug a hole and in went our baby tree. The kids were so excited. Every time we returned home and parked our car in the circular driveway, we would walk over to the tree to see if it was growing. 

One day we had a get-together at our house and our driveway was full of cars. We didn’t realize this but one of our family members had parked his car by the baby Carambola and when he backed his car out of our yard, he ran over the tree, leaving it completely destroyed.

We all rushed to see the remains of our would-be-tree, all scorched and branch-less. Needless to say, this was a sad day for our family. We had hopes and dreams for this tree. We had looked forward to seeing it grow and eating its fruit, and we had done so together. 

It felt wrong to pull it out just yet. We would wait until it felt right to replace it with another tree. 

I’ve been remembering the Carambola lately. Isn’t that how real life works sometimes? We come face to face with the death of dreams, the loss of excitement, the disappointment and grief of losing our connection. Sometimes, life just sucks.

As it happens in anecdotal stories that make for good blog posts, this one does have a happy ending. See, we thought our Carambola was dead. It definitely appeared to be dead, but unbeknown to us, there was still life left in it. To our great surprise, one fine day we noticed new growth on it. We couldn’t believe our eyes! How could it be that our leveled, burned, and dry tree could come back to life? You can imagine our elation, can’t you?

Before the accident, our tree was growing oh so slowly. Progress was hardly noticeable to the naked eye. But the new life after its seeming demise took a turn for the watch-me-grow-by-leaps-and-bounds way! Life sprung with a vengeance! Well, isn’t that peculiar! Loss brought greater gain. And of course, isn’t that another cheesy metaphor for life?

Yes, I’ve been remembering our Carambola and wondering what source of rooted life is there in me when my hopes and dreams are crushed or mangled. Doesn’t life take a fuller meaning and joy after death? Isn’t that how the story of redemption unfolds? 

I’m not always sure how to live in hope along with loss. I feel like I stumble into it in isolated moments rather than fully living in it. But I do hope for hope, and I guess that’s hopeful, right? 

Faith is hoping for what is still unseen - the goodness and beauty that come from the God-life growing in us, the Christ ~ both in death and resurrection; a reality that is hard to grasp, its glimpses life-giving.

I wonder how many life-after-death metaphors you can pull from your own journey, dear reader. Might you share one with me?

The day came when a baby starfruit grew on our young tree. We were all so excited to try it! We harvested the single fruit the tree had gifted us that year, sectioned it off with a butter knife, and we all tried one piece. It was delightful.

We moved to a different neighborhood while the tree was still young, but we never stopped driving by the old house just to check on our tree. It did, in fact, grow to become a beautiful and strong one! We were all so proud of it!

Last night, as I was writing this piece, I ventured into Google Earth in hopes of seeing the tree once more. I don’t live in the same city anymore so it’s been at least 20 years since I last saw it. I found the address and the street view and “stood” in front of our old house. The structure hasn’t changed much. The driveway is still there, but the Carambola is not. This felt like a little stab to the heart. Who dared removing it? Didn’t they know it carried a very personal story?

Sadness comes from deep places, the places we hold our memories, our connections, our intimacy, our loves. Hope also comes from a deep well of stories and memories and Bible verses and morning prayers and hugs. 

I hope our Carambola is living happily somewhere else, feeding another family, providing shade for other humans and creatures. Yes, I’m sure of this.

“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.” ~ 2Co 4:8-10