One summer morning as I sat in my office, an old sky-blue Dodge pickup pulled into the parking lot. Hefting a box, an older man in dusty-blue jeans and a worn flannel shirt strolled through the front door. He greeted me as if we were old friends. Curious, I watched as he set the box on the floor, pulled out an orange, and cut it into wedges with a pocketknife.

“Here,” he said, smiling confidently while handing me one. “Can’t be any sweeter. Picked ’em two days ago from my trees in California.”

He was right. It was sweet and delicious, so much so that I purchased the entire box.

While stuffing my payment in his shirt pocket, he turned to leave. “I’ll put you on my list,” he said. “And I’ll bring you more next year.”

That evening, I drove home, anxious to share the fruit I had purchased with my family. I put the fresh oranges in the pantry, and we enjoyed them for a week. Then, one morning, I peered into the box. The remaining oranges looked as perfect as they had on the day I bought them. But when I grabbed one and looked at its underside, I noticed it was soft and overripe. I examined the oranges underneath the top layer, discovering that a haze of gray covered them, making them inedible. The rank smell of rot wafted through the kitchen as I took the remaining oranges to the garbage outside.

You didn’t leave them in the box, did you?

I’d forgotten about the oranges when the orange grower returned with another box a year later. He greeted me as before, this time remembering my name.

“I’m sorry,” I told him, “but I won’t be buying any more oranges. They ripen too quickly, and we ate less than half of what I purchased last year.”

The old farmer looked concerned. “You didn’t leave them in the box, did you?”

“Yeah,” I said, confused by his question. “Why?” I asked.

“You can’t do that!” he answered. “Oranges and apples emit a gas that helps them ripen quickly. They need to breathe. You can’t just leave them in a dark box where fumes build and mold can grow. They’ll rot. It’s what they do.”

As sweet as the man’s oranges were, I sent him on his way without purchasing more.

It begs the question: How well do we know our family members?

Over the years, I’ve considered what I learned about oranges and how it applies to my relationships, especially with my children and spouse. Just as the top layer of oranges appeared perfect, so, too, do our children when viewed briefly or routinely. And just like the oranges, things may seem perfect on the surface. Still, underneath, a different reality exists, right under our noses.

By the time we notice, it can be too late. So let us never forget that our children have a different life at school, with friends, and even at home, locked away in their bedrooms on social media. That’s where dark forces can rot them and turn sweetness to decay.

It begs the question: How well do we know our family members? When we return to our Heavenly Father, will He say, “You didn’t just leave them to manage alone, did you? You can’t do that! You must take them out and let them breathe. If you don’t, they’ll turn toward the dark. It’s what they do.”

So, what does it take to get them out of the box and into the fresh air?

So, what does it take to get them out of the box and into the fresh air? How can we make sure our relationships don’t spoil?

We must never tire of prioritizing those relationships. We can play games, take long vacations and day trips, enjoy holiday traditions, establish consistent date nights, and schedule time for family. We can tell jokes and stories, share spiritual thoughts, and engage in meaningful conversations. We can ask about their day and then listen with undivided attention.

Like that top layer of oranges in my box, we can be so caught up in the day-to-day that we are unaware of what’s going on beneath the surface. Later in life, we wonder what went wrong and why our relationships are strained.

It doesn’t have to be that way

It doesn’t have to be that way. If we show our loved ones kindness and give them our time and attention, like oranges taken out of the box and into the fresh air, they will flourish, and our relationships with them can be sweet.