During the Holy Convocation, I was sitting in church listening to the story of Nathanael and the fig tree.

I said out loud to all who could hear me-

‘I wanna sit under a fig tree!” Which was met by laughter.

I really did want to sit under one. Bishop Samules had made it sound so enthralling. In my head, however, the fig tree was off in the middle east somewhere and everyone around me were wearing sandals with long elaborate skirts and pants which were held up by braided rope. And, there I was under a fig tree doing exactly what I was doing in church, writing in my Journal and listening to the story of Nathanael…

A few days later, Mother Wanda and myself wandered into Georgie’s garden.

After a brief greeting and introducing them, Georgie, lead us to a higo tree.

This plant grows in Puerto Rico as well all over North America. It has another name in English but in this garden, we call it higo.

He packed up a small bag of some for us to take on our journey.

I loved the higo’s! The white milky substance was sticky but sweet. I added them to my juice and stored the rest in my fridge. When I told my sister April, who is also a gardener, about my new and found fruit in the Bronx, she said, those are figs!

Really, April?

Yeah. We have a fig tree too! Remember?!

She then told me about the fig tree in our community garden that she tends to…

I also thought about Minister Eric who brings figs from his garden in New Jersey. I never remembered any of that until she reminded me.

Then, I thought about the tree. The short tree. And the garden. I didn’t have to catch a plane…It was so simple to walk into this garden and sit under the tree!…I changed my prayer.

First, God, show me what I have around me and let me appreciate it…next, Dear Jesus, I wanna sit under a fig tree …but I want to sit under a new fig tree, the one that is in the middle east.

I also thought about a lot of my other prayers. Are they as specific as they can be? And are my words (especially those whispered in the temple) words of life and positivity?? I know God is listening and waiting to give me more sweet figs!

After church, Mother Wanda and I walked to the garden instead of a restaurant. We skipped our typical Sunday Dinner for a fresh salad. While our counterparts indulged in all types of meats and sides, we hand- picked various colors of tomatoes and peppers, figs, cabbage, and pumpkin. The salad was truly scrumptious…we ate everything but that white cucumber. It was so nasty. Truly a let down!

Georgie, a very talented gardener who not only gardens but also builds and creates. He is also a very proud Puerto Rican and filled with stories and histories for any visitor to hold on to. While I don’t visit as much as I want, every-time I enter, I feel as if I am in a secret spot in my neighborhood. As if it is a hidden gem.