Pumpkin Surprise: Bearing Fruit in Season

 

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.

—Galatians 6:9

When my daughter and family came to visit last month, my son-in-law trimmed a bush for me. He discarded the debris at the edge of the yard and returned with two baby pumpkins. Imagine my surprise when I saw them. How did they get there?  

                                       

Clear Vision: How will you remember the spring of 2020?

In everything you do, put God first, and he will direct you and crown your efforts with success. Don’t be conceited, sure of your own wisdom. Instead, trust and reverence the Lord, and turn your back on evil; when you do that, then you will be given renewed health and vitality.

—Proverbs 3:6-8 TLB

Yesterday I heard a radio show host ask, “How will you remember the spring of 2020?”

As I listened to his co-host respond, I thought how I would formulate my own answer. I was struck by the host’s phrasing, how he used the term “spring of 2020,” rather than the “coronavirus pandemic.” I thought about the way many of us use 20/20 to mean clear vision. I wondered how clearly we view the events happening around us. Do we focus on the negative aspects? Or can we see the good things that have come from this pandemic?

As for me, I choose to focus on the good. Don’t get me wrong. I have had some bad days, shed a lot of tears. But I know the difference it can make when I shift my focus to the positive. This is what I want to remember most, and maybe God wants this as well. So if you will oblige me, let me count the good in this season. Perhaps, if you have been down, it will change your outlook too.

                                      

Winter: Is there any good in this most difficult season?

“As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease.” 

—Genesis 8:22

Gray skies cast its gloom over me and frigid temperatures kept me captive inside my own home. The landscape, dead and devoid of any color except brown, caused me to question why anyone would like winter. Certainly I didn’t, and recently I had made that known to anyone who would listen, declaring that if I could I would retreat to warmer climates during the dreaded season.

My attitude had been poor since I threw over the page of my perpetual calendar on December 31^st and read the familiar verse, which quoted the very words of God Himself: “As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease” (Genesis 8:22).

I focused on the words “cold” and “winter” and groaned at the reminder. I knew it meant I had to endure the long stretch of months, holed up inside my four walls, with little evidence of life beyond. Nothing growing in the surrounding fields or flowerbeds, nothing green except the algae growing on my siding.

With all this negativity, I had to give this matter pause. God said as long as the earth remains, we will have seasons. That will not change. And as long as I remain on this earth, I will have to endure winter (if I can’t escape to Florida). To make the experience more palatable, even positive, I decided I needed to change. So, I prayed, Lord, if everything You make is good (1 Timothy 4:4), that must mean that winter is good. Help me to see the good in winter. I am keeping my eyes wide-open.

Church, Out of the Mouths of Teens

And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.

—Hebrews 10:24-25

Out of the mouths of babes. Out of the mouths of teenagers (smh). For those of you not well-versed in text language, “smh” stands for “shaking my head.”  It took me a while to catch on myself, but as a teacher of teens, I need to keep up.

Yes, I shake my head at what comes out of their mouths, but the truth is some of what they say gives me pause—like their responses to a recent assignment. Given a three-column chart, students were directed to identify and classify ten structures they pass on their way from home to school.  In the third column, they were supposed to describe the purpose of the structure.

While I expected that many would list a nearby church in the first column, I did not expect how they would fill in the remaining columns.  Some classified the church as a commercial building. And others described it this way:  “To worship your religion,” “To worship religions,” “To practice religion,” and “For people to feel holly [sic].”

When the Enemy Prowls: Tomatoes Take Two

Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings.—1 Peter 5:8-9

 

I fumbled for my house keys in the dark, as I stepped over my tomato plants, which were spilling onto the sidewalk. Why didn’t someone leave the light on? I thought, as I made my way onto the back deck. Suddenly, a flash of black and white caught my eye.  I turned to my side and faced a furry creature with its fluffy tail lifted in my direction.  My breath caught in my throat.  Oh, no! One wrong move and I’ll be doused with eau de skunk!  My heart beat harder than Ringo Starr, and my fingers shook like Elvis as I struggled to unlock the door to escape the perilous situation. The door flung open and I flew in, slamming it hard behind me. Whew, that was close!

But that wasn’t the end of our escapades with the skunk. The next evening my son-in-law Ricky experienced his own close call with the nighttime visitor on the deck. And the following night we saw him again. As our car pulled into the driveway, the headlights illuminated the deck, revealing our caller scavenging from the cat food dish.  Ricky blew the horn, while Emma and I protested, fearing the retaliation of our frightened guest. To our surprise, the scavenger scampered off the deck right down into the crawlspace opening. Now what?

Very Truly Volunteers

Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.—John 12:24

 “It’s a jungle out here!” my mother called, approaching my back deck.  “Jungle” was a good word for my overzealous overflowing tomato plants that are more like thriving trees. They have overtaken my flower beds, subduing rose bushes, camouflaging shrubs, and now running up both sides of the steps, depositing a red-ripe harvest right on my doorstep.

Amazed at my abundant garden, all my visitors ask, “What’s your secret?”  But the truth is nothing.  I did absolutely nothing.  No planting, no fertilizing—nothing. The plants are products of nature called volunteers.  Last year rotten tomatoes fell to the ground, and the seeds replanted themselves, producing an even greater harvest this year.  Now I have more tomatoes than I could ever eat!  And gathering them is also a challenge.  Many are ripe but difficult to reach. I lean over luxuriant leaves, being careful not to break them, and stretch as far as I can in order to reach those beneath the edge of the deck. Others grow in and around angry rose bushes that attack with vicious thorns when I approach the plump rubies. 

Imagine

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.—Ephesians 3:20-21

If you know me, you know of my desire to publish my children’s Christmas book, The Prettiest Sight to See:  A Story of the Holly Wreath.  You may also know that some of my friends gave me a beautiful berry-laden holly bush for Christmas last year and that I planted it in a symbolic act of faith, trusting God to bring a fruitful harvest.  As suggested, I planted the tree alongside my driveway so I would see the gentle reminder every time I drove by.  In front of the holly, I positioned a yard ornament emblazoned “Believe.”  Perfect!

Several months passed by, and without fail, each time I passed I turned my eyes toward the shrub, believing one day my prayer would be answered.  Then one day I noticed that the once beautiful plant with lush green foliage polka dotted with red was bare.  I gasped.  What happened?!  A few scraggly brown sticks was all that remained.  What does this mean, God?  Certainly my dream hasn’t died, has it?  I believed, God. Why would You allow my symbol of hope to succumb?