It's the last day of the Hebrew month of Nissan. On this breezy, spring day, the sun shines down on us and the small, newly budded branches rustle. We are walking around my neighborhood in search of a fruit tree. Today is the last day to recite a blessing, whose opportunity comes only once a year—the blessing on a fruit tree that has begun to bud, which can be said only in the month of Nissan.

Given the vicarious weather patterns in Toronto, it's not every year that our search for a budding tree in April is successful. With our mild past winter, though, we are hopeful.

About a block from my home, we spot it.

My children excitedly inform me that they remember how the small, aromatic red and green apples swelled from this tree’s branches last summer. We examine the tree closely; the little flowers that will soon turn into sweet, juicy fruit are discernable.

Our search is over.

My husband opens the siddur (prayer book) for us to read the blessing. This is not a blessing we are familiar with, as it is one that is said but once a year.

I read the words to myself in Hebrew, translating silently in my mind.

Blessed are You, L-rd our G‑d who has not made His world lacking in anything and has created its goodly creatures and goodly trees to give pleasure to mankind.

As I recite the words, I feel every fiber of my being rebelling.

Has not made His world lacking? Not lacking in anything?

My heart vehemently protests as my memory conjures up images from the past year. We are standing just a few blocks away, on a colder day but at this same time of year, at the funeral of a young father. I can almost hear the sobs of his young pregnant widow and the silence of his toddler son, still too young to fathom the impact of these grave events.

I hear myself answering the phone just a few weeks ago to an urgent request for members of the community to say Psalms. The prayers are for a fourteen year old boy diagnosed with a brain tumor.

On my lips are still the Psalms I said this morning for a very likable, special woman in our community, currently undergoing chemotherapy.

And my eyes still sting from the funeral of an elderly woman, a former kindergarten teacher who, just over a week ago, was finally but so sadly released from her last years of suffering and hospitalization.

And these are but the recent memories. And just memories from my own little circle of acquaintances. Just within my own community.

What of the suffering of our brethren elsewhere—homes that were shattered, lives that have crumbled, brave individuals that have been reduced to tears? What of all the many tragedies the world over, young and old suffering a whole score of sorrows?

This is a world that is not lacking in anything? Am I really expected to extol a world where misery mingles so easily with happy times?

We are now walking the short distance back to our home. I see children playing innocently along the streets of our suburb.

My youngest child, my baby, who just turned two, comes out of our home to greet me. This last year has brought many changes for her as well. She has grown from a barely crawling infant to a walking, talking and quite independent toddler. Gazing at her, I silently pray that the coming year will signal just as much continued growth.

She is a budding flower, replete with potential, bursting with energy and capability just waiting to develop.

I think back to the budding flowers on the fruit tree—their potential so tightly wrapped, hidden within, a secret to the world. Now it is a plain green bud, but within is held a precious secret, a key to joy and survival. It won’t be for several weeks until produces its aromatic, juicy fruits. But right now, within that bud, is contained all that power, all that latent potential. To the naked eye it looks unremarkable and spare, but to the discerning eye is life-giving treasure hiding just beneath the surface.

Within my child, within every child, within each of us lies, like the budding fruit flowers on the tree, all that it takes to make our world a perfect world, a world of redemption, a world of peace and unity, a world without strife and misery.

Each of us holds the keys and the prospects to make our barren world bloom into a redemptive one. We need only have the eyes to see and discern what lies beneath the tiny bud of each of our positive actions, and have the courage to create a world “that does not lack in anything."

Because hiding within our world is the potential each of us have to palpably discover and actualize the reality that our G‑d has not made His world lacking in anything and has created its goodly creatures and goodly trees to give pleasure to mankind.