While it was inspiring to see the missionary doctors serving the poor there, eye-opening to see the potential for Ophthalmology in the rural community and mind-blowing to hear what God had taught me, there was also much time for reflection, to think about who I had become and am becoming. And that, was sobering.
As we left in the jeep on the 5-hour ride out of the jungle to the nearest big town, the missionaries and mission trippers heaped tonnes of thanks and praise on us. Just before leaving, an Amercian team of 3 women, one in her fifties, one in her sixties and one in her seventies had asked me to help them with painting a mural for them in the paediatric ward. These women had flown halfway across the globe just so they could turn one dingy, smelly, depressing room housing screaming, sickly, scrawny village children into a clean and cheery place, and they needed a picture on the wall. They were old enough to be my parents and grandparents, yet chose to come out of their comfort zones to simply, paint a room. Seeing how a 67-year old grandmother sat on the dirty floor with her head nearly pressed to the floor for hours just so she could paint the rims of the walls was absolutely heartwrenching and heartwarming at the same time. What humility, what sincerity, and what love.
But I digress. Praise was generously doled out to me at our departure regarding the mural. But instead of invoking joy, it left a dead, heavy feeling inside of me.
"Oh what a beautiful mural you did for us."
"Oh, God has really blessed you with many gifts."
Driving away from the waving crowd, I suddenly saw a picture in my mind, that of a Christmas tree, and a peach tree heavy with sun-ripened fruit. Something gripped me, and sobered me. I knew God was speaking. I didn't deserve the praise, and God knew it too.
Each of us are blessed with gifts, some more than others. The gifts tucked beneath a Christmas tree, however, tell us nothing about the nature of the tree itself. Gifts, then, reflect not us, but the Giver of such gifts.
Each of us are also blessed with the ability to bear fruit in our lives. Fruit, unlike gifts, is produced by a steady process of cultivation and development. Good trees bear good fruit and bad trees bear bad fruit. Fruits, then, reflect everything about the nature of the tree, that is, us.
In the same light, we may see how while gifts are like talents, fruits are like character. In the long run and in God's sight, undoubtedly, character is more important. Our gifts shall one day perish with the world, while our characters will determine eternity.
Consolidating all the thoughts I had journalled down during my personal reflection was not easy. I left, sobered, for I saw how my close friend Jw's life was embodied in the fruit tree, and mine, in the Christmas tree.
Living with her for 3 weeks in the jungle hospital opened my eyes to her deep sense of gentleness, kindness and patience, in every and any circumstance. These virtues are described as fruits in the bible. In so many ways, I am thankful we met and journey together. And while on the surface, it may have seemed like I was "more talented" (what with the murals, my varied hobbies back home and my training in the mornings), my life on a day-to-day basis certainly did not reflect the depth of character and maturity of spirit which she inspired in me to develop. Looking inwards, I realised I had 22 years of impulsiveness and impatience, among other bad habits to strip away.
I closed my eyes and saw a Christmas tree ornamented with gaudy lights and cheap streamers, with opened boxes and torn gift-wrapping at its feet. They were all very exciting gifts, but nothing as beautiful, as fragrant or as life-sustaining as the beautiful fruit of the peach tree.
I had painted the mural, but I didn't do it with total joy, peace and goodness. At one point I remember complaining to God about how big a task it was and how I hadn't the time nor energy to do it. It was a task "well-done" in the public eye, and probably earned me another ornament on my tree, but certainly, any fruit borne out of that spirit must have been sour, or rancid, even. Jw and the elderly ladies from America, however, did the outline of my painting ever so gingerly and gladly, and out of that came a fruit of sweet humility and sun-ripened goodness.
There were many other things I uncovered about myself, and it grieved me to see how, for a moment, I no longer recognised the straightforward, strong-willed, moody, task-oriented person before me. My strengths, untempered by fruits of love, patience and gentleness, had become only but weaknesses.
By the time my plane landed in Singapore, I was exhausted. I lugged my baggage (both literally and metaphorically) to the arrival hall and slumped down in a chair, a little overwhelmed. Oh God, the mural was a bad fruit, wasn't it? How am I going to change 22 years-worth of bad habits? Impatience, intolerance, single-mindedness, oh the list goes on and on.
A taxi rumbled past me, and a shimmer caught my eye. There on the floor was a rainbow, reminding me of God's promise to perfect and complete us, to have faith and to take heart. 
Floating into my mind, came the verse which I had scrawled on the mural in the paediatric ward. The writing on the wall written in the indonesian language was, "... if anyone is in God, he is a new creation..." -2 Cor 5:17a
No matter what sort of tree we are, there is hope for each of us.
And so I pray, that someday when I close my eyes, I would see myself embodied in the picture of a peach tree, heavy laden with Son-ripened fruit, and its gifts neatly gracing its roots.
"... we do not need to choose one at the expense of the other.
Gifts do not exclude fruits; fruit does not exclude gifts.
Rather, they should complement each other.
Gifts should provide practical expression for character...and balance one another in a combination that
glorifies God and serves humanity."
- Faith to Live By,
by Derek Prince
" ... not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think,
but to think soberly..."
-Romans 12:3
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