The Tree
A long time ago, there was a huge apple tree. A little boy loved to come and play around it everyday. He climbed to the tree top, ate the apples, took a nap under the shadow. He loved the tree and the tree loved to play with him.
Time went by. The little boy had grown up and he no longer played around the tree everyday.
One day, the boy came back to the tree and he looked sad. "Come and play with me," the tree asked the boy. "I am no longer a kid, I don't play around trees anymore", the boy replied. "I want toys; I need money to buy them." "Sorry, I don't have money, but you can pick all my apples and sell them. So, you will have money", the tree responded. The boy was so excited. He grabbed all the apples on the tree and left happily.
The boy never came back after he picked the apples. The tree was sad.
One day, the boy returned and the tree was so excited. "Come and play with me," the tree said. "I don't have time to play. I have to work for my family. We need a house for shelter. Can you help me?" "Sorry, I don't have a house. But you can chop off my branches to build your house." So the boy cut all the branches of the tree and left happily.
The tree was glad to see him happy but the boy never came back since then. The tree was again lonely and sad.
One hot summer day, the boy returned and the tree was delighted. "Come and play with me!" the tree said. "I am sad and getting old. I want to go sailing to relax myself. Can you give me a boat?", the boy asked. "Use my trunk to build your boat. You can sail far away and be happy." So the boy cut the tree truck to make a boat. He went sailing and never showed up for a long time.
Finally, the boy returned after he left for so many years.
"Sorry, my boy, but I don't have anything for you anymore. No more apples for you", the tree said. "I don't have teeth to bite," the boy replied. "No more trunk for you to climb on", the tree added. "I am too old for that now", the boy said.
"I really can't give you anything ... the only thing left is my dying roots", the tree said with tears. "I don't need much now, just a place to rest. I am tired after all these years", the boy replied. "Good! Old tree roots is the best place to lean on and rest. Come, Come sit down with me and rest." The boy sat down and the tree was glad and smiled with tears.
This is a story of everyone. The tree is our parent.
When we were young, we loved to play with Mom and Dad. When we grew up, we left them. We only came to them when we needed something or when we were in trouble. Some parents, no matter what happens, will always be there and give everything they could to make us happy.
You may think the boy is cruel to the tree but that's how some of treat our parents.
salam
Ahmad
Source: Unknown
First posted by on Monday, December 17, 2007 at 5:42 AM

Asalaamu Alikum, Is the tree
Asalaamu Alikum,
Is the tree really the mother/parents...
I feel the relationship between the boy and the tree likens the relationship between the slave and his Lord.
We are all origionally born in the state of genuine belief (Fitra) and as we grow older, our love and perceived need for the Devine wavers from the influences of this world. We still, however, return to Him, Most High, in times of need, where He listens and provides when we ask. No matter how infrequent, Allah loves when his slave turns to Him.
Allah's love for us is more than a mother's love for her child. Verily, we are always indebted to Him, Most Merciful, Most Compassionate - even if we were to be in the presence of the Tree forever. It's Allah who allows us to even love the Tree, and for that alone our whole existence is in debt.
Only thing missing here is that Allah, unlike this tree, is Everlasting, and unlike anything we can remotely comprehend: beyond the physical and spiritual worlds, independent of his creation.
"All praises are due to Allah, Lord of the Worlds." (1:2)
Salaam I enjoyed your story
Salaam
I enjoyed your story about the boy and the apple tree. Your explanation of the tree=parents and boy=children is so true. :0
Widad (Linda Delgado), Publisher
Muslim Writers Publishing