What’s An Orange Got To Do With It?

By: Dr. Scout Cloud Lee

One day during the pandemic, I moved from utter sadness to immense gladness and gratitude while sheltered at home. I was watching migrant workers slaving in fields, harvesting food for all of us. Many were gowned with face coverings. Some were not. Some were undocumented and at risk of deportation. And yet, they worked amid this pandemic to ensure we had food. They should be included as the frontline heroes. My heart embraced them.

This morning I ate an orange for breakfast, but not before

cradling it and musing all the places that orange had traveled and

all the many hands that touched it so that it landed in my hand. I

often include gardeners and field workers in my prayers of

gratitude, but this morning I journeyed back to some brother or

sister who cut an orange in half and picked out the seeds. Who

then washed those seeds with soap and water and used their nails

to peel those seeds. Already the orange on my table was being

caressed by my human family somewhere.

In the Spring when the sweet earth was warm enough and

the temperature hovering around 60 degrees, that very seed that

would become my orange was planted some three inches apart in

soil mixed with clean river sand and potting soil, all collected by

other of my brothers or sisters. Someone covered it with dark

plastic for 10-12 days to ensure a warm place to grow.

When my orange tree reached around 8-11 inches it was planted in

a bigger pot in well-rotted manure, also collected by someone specific.

When my orange’s little tree was finally planted in the earth,

it was attended to for another 10 years before my very own

orange was born. During those years someone took care to keep

insects away from my orange, and someone else acted to protect

my little tree from the cold. My little orange first was born as a

sweet, sweet blossom, my favorite smell from childhood. My little

orange tree was planted carefully near bees who are talented

pollinators of orange trees. Someone else took care of the bees.

During the first ten years, someone pruned my little tree and

sprayed it for pests.

My little orange needed to near ripen on my tree before the

harvest. Then a pair of hands plucked my very orange from my

tree with a skilled twisting and pulling with the wrist. I pondered

who’s wrist picked my orange. I like to think that my orange was

picked in this way, but if it was shaken to the ground by machines,

someone special picked up my orange and put it into a storage

cart to be cleaned, and stored in a cool, dry place for transport via

ship, airplane, truck or railway. Someone very special regulated

the temperature around my orange until it was delivered to our

local Walmart where I picked it out of a bin of hundreds of other

oranges. I kept my orange cool in my frig until this morning when I

embraced it and its awesome journey into my hands. I prayed

silently this morning for every hand that touched my little orange

from inception to me. And, as always, I felt awe for the Ever-

Present-Giver-of-our-Breath for even thinking up something so

awesome as an orange.

Today, when I go to work, I shall pause to be grateful for each

person and all it takes to make our work possible. Gratitude is the

most powerful tool we as leaders possess. That for which we are

grateful multiplies and grows. Our gratitude is pure reverence for

ourselves and each other. Embracing this truth is exactly “what an

orange has to do with it!”.