Ain’t That A VHIT
By Von C. Howard
There comes a quiet moment in life when you begin to understand something important: not every comment needs a response, not every opinion deserves your attention, and not every voice should carry weight in your spirit. Some shade simply isn’t worth standing under, especially when it comes from a tree that bears no fruit.
Most of us have experienced it in one form or another. The subtle remarks. The sideways glances. The unsolicited criticism that seems to arrive without warning. Often, it comes from people who have never walked the road you’re on, never carried the load you’re carrying, and never planted a single seed toward the vision you’re nurturing. Yet still, they speak.
What I am learning, slowly and sometimes painfully, is that people who are truly growing rarely have time to diminish others. Fruit-bearing trees are focused on one thing: becoming what they were created to be. They are busy strengthening their roots, surviving the storms, and producing something that can nourish others. There is little space left for throwing shade.
And here is something else worth remembering fruit does not become ripe and sweet because of shade. It matures because of sunlight. Because of the warmth, the patience, and the steady exposure to something life-giving. The sweetness you taste did not come from darkness or criticism; it came from vibrant and refreshing sunshine. From long days of quiet growth. From nourishment that no one else may have noticed.
Those who understand growth tend to be gentle with it. They know how fragile beginnings can be. They remember the seasons when nothing seemed to bloom, when progress felt invisible, when faith was the only thing holding them steady. Because of that, they offer grace. They offer patience. They offer encouragement or they choose silence when words are unnecessary.
Shade, on the other hand, often grows from places of hurt, disappointment, or unfulfilled desire. Sometimes it comes from insecurity. Sometimes from comparison. Sometimes from people who once dreamed but stopped believing somewhere along the way. And when we respond to that shade, we unknowingly allow it to pull us away from the sunlight that sustains us.
Every moment spent defending yourself against someone who has already decided not to understand is a moment taken from your future. Every emotional reaction to fruitless criticism dims the light you need for your own growth. Purpose requires focus. Peace requires protection.
Still, it is human to feel it. Especially when the shade comes from people you once trusted, admired, or hoped would walk beside you. That kind of disappointment can linger. But wisdom teaches discernment. Not everyone is meant to travel every season with you. Some people are assigned to your beginning, not your becoming.
So, with compassion, let them be where they are.
Let them talk. Let them watch. Let them wonder.
You, however, keep turning toward the light. Keep planting. Keep watering. Keep believing. Keep growing in places where your roots can stretch and your branches can reach the sun.
Because in time, fruit tells its own story. Sweet fruit. Ripe fruit. Fruit shaped not by shade, but by sunshine.
Never respond to shade from a tree that bears no fruit. Not out of pride, but out of peace. Your journey is still unfolding, your purpose still forming, and your future still calling you forward
