Rain

As I step out the door the air meets me like a blanket, thick and heavy. Just moving through the dense atmosphere causes the molecules to turn to water on my arms. It’s going to rain. Any minute the humidity will increase one more percent and the water will become too heavy for the air and clouds to hold.

I walk quickly, since I am not earthy enough to garden in the rain. A cucumber has been slowly growing on my dying vines. Every day I check its thickness, its color, its length, and pray no animal has taken it in the night. It is still there. Stubby but turning light. I pick it, amazed and grateful that my cucumber vines have put forth such a grand effort in their dying days.

Perhaps the coming rains will bring new life to this old vine. Perhaps the rain will cool the ground and air and make life easier for these precious plants. Perhaps not. This is God’s call. I don’t control the weather.

My tomatoes are recovering from their previous attack. The netting seems to be working for now. Each plant has small green orbs sucking in moisture and nutrients through the branches. Soon rain will supplement the city water I send them through the soaker hose. Hopefully the rain will last long enough to fill the underground reservoirs, to bring the grass in the yard back to life, to bring the music back to my creek.

The rain starts by the time I get to my peppers. They are healthy and green, bearing tiny fruit. When the peppers turn vibrant red and orange and yellow, I will pick them. Such hardy warriors.

Unwilling to stand in the rain, I scan the basil, the raspberry, and the fig from afar. I should harvest more basil soon, but not today. The fruit plants look healthy. No doubt this rain will help them as well.

I turn my face for a moment up to the sky and feel the gentle drops, grateful for it bringing life, grateful for my cucumber.

This is not a storm, blown in by strong winds and darks clouds in a sunny sky. This is one big cloud filling the sky and reaching as low as my yard. There is no wind so I am hoping the cloud will stay and soak my garden, my yard, the earth with water for hours. Perhaps even cool us off a bit, although that is a lot to ask for in late July.

This is just life. I tend the garden. Some seasons are hard on the garden, some seasons are hard on the gardener. God sends heat. God sends rain. It is only through Him, His life-giving, life-sustaining Spirit, that anything grows at all.

Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. John 15:4-5.

Apart from Christ, apart from God, I can do nothing. I can’t grow; I can’t bear fruit. Even the fruit growing in my garden is beyond my control. What then is my role as a gardener? As a follower of Christ, a believer?

If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this that you bear much fruit and become my disciples. John 15:7.

Lord, thank you for the rain. May it help the garden bear fruit. Thank you for the rain in my life. May it help me bear fruit for you, fruit that glorifies you.

And this is my prayer for each of you as well. May God grow His fruit in your life.

Love in Christ, Betsy

The Heat

With the sun below the tree line, my garden is pleasant this early in the morning. But my cucumbers tell the story. They are dying under the relentless heat. The soaker hose brings them water every morning and blossoms emerge as the plants struggle to produce. I admire their determination. Perhaps the heat will moderate, and the cucumbers will survive. I wish there was more I could do for them.

As I head indoors, I feel almost guilty. My cucumbers do not have the luxury of coming with me. Due to circumstances beyond their control, the cucumber plants must stay outside under the grueling heat all day. Suddenly I see the woman at the intersection who spends the entire day walking back and forth under the sun with her cardboard sign. Did circumstances beyond her control put her there; keep her there? Did some bad decision twenty years ago make her stand under the sun today?

I don’t walk in my garden in the heat of the day, but many people don’t have the luxury of avoiding the heat. They may work outside. They may live outside.

The topper on my boat was bent during a storm on Father’s Day. Now when I go out on the lake, I go in the morning before it gets too hot, at least until I get the topper fixed. And I spend a lot of time in the water. What if these luxuries were not available to me? Would I be strong enough to stand beside this woman at the intersection for even an hour? Or would I, like my cucumber vines, wither in the heat?

How did our ancestors manage? Were they that much stronger than I am, or did they not have any alternatives? Drought and famine caused Jacob and his family to cross the desert and move to Egypt, caused Naomi to move to Moab and return with Ruth. Economic hardships have brought millions of families to the United States from every continent. I have never faced that level of heat.

But many people face it every day.

Not all my garden suffers. The tomatoes have fruit; the peppers have budding flowers; the basil is thriving. But my cucumbers are hurting.

For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is in Christ…that there may be no dissension within the body, but the members may have the same care for one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together with it. 1 Corinthians 12:12,25-26.

We have become divided, and some members of our body are suffering. I do not have the answer for this except to pray and care for one another. The cool weather which was good for my sugar snaps would stunt my peppers and tomatoes. The heat which is wilting my cucumbers is encouraging my basil and fig to grow.

I can’t make it cooler for my cucumbers. I am not sure God would want me to if I could. Perhaps my call is simply to do what I am doing. Give them water, give them some added nutrients, do what I can to help them survive the heat. God may have a higher purpose in the heat, drought, and famine. He may be building a nation in exile. He may be bringing Ruth to a new husband. He may be populating a new country with a mix of nationalities. He may be growing new things in His garden.

What I can do is love. Love my garden, love nature, love people, love the church, the body of Christ.

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful. It does not rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 1 Corinthians 13:4-7.

I will strive today to not demand my own way, to not be irritable and resentful, to endure all things. Even the heat.

Love in Christ, Betsy

What do I see?

The hour is early, and dew still covers the grass. The sun peeks through the tree line. Soon it will crest the woods and fix its burning gaze on my plants, but for now I can walk my garden in long sleeves. The soaker hose is bringing life-sustaining water, and the plants seem to be enjoying this morning respite from the heat as much as I do.

I approach my tomatoes with trepidation. Are they still there, or has some thief in the night come and stole them? With relief I see the green orbs still attached to their branches. I have yet to harvest a red tomato this year. The heat is crippling my cucumber vines. Each morning, I peruse these plants and harvest nothing. The empty harvest feels personal.

Is there more I should be doing? Did I make a critical mistake earlier? If so, can I correct it? Am I letting other distractions take precedence over my garden? Have I overestimated my abilities as a gardener?

I turn my attention to the basil bush. Bursting with leaves and perfuming the air, it calls for me to reap its bounty. I have pulled up all the garlic and processed it. Peeled, minced and frozen dozens of cloves which are now ready to be used when needed. This may well be the summer of pesto, served with pasta since I have no tomatoes.

The fig and the raspberry grow large and healthy, and my sense of failure begins to ease.

How good God is to give us different plants that fail or thrive in different seasons and in different climates. Biodiversity. If I had only grown cucumbers this year, the heat would have felled my entire crop. If I had only grown tomatoes, the fear of no harvest might be crippling. It could well be that that this is just a year for other things to grow.

Now there are varieties of gifts, but the sane Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good, 1 Corinthians 12:4-7.

God is working on me to go out to the garden in expectations of a harvest, in gratitude for what is growing, in praise of His provision. There are green tomatoes on the vine. There is abundant basil. There are blossoms on the pepper plants. It is only mid-July.

I pull some of the weeds that are encroaching on the raspberry bush while the ground is still damp. This I can do. I can keep the weeds from overtaking the plants, even if I can’t keep them out of the garden. I can check the netting for gaps, sprinkle hot sauce around the plants, and try to discourage invaders.

I lift my head and listen to the birds. A small bunny darts from the hedgerow, sees me, and darts back under cover. Bees hover over the clover nearby, and a wasp lands on the pine bark mulch. My yard is alive in the early hours. Soon it will be too hot to spend much time here.

I let the garden, nature, God, speak to my fearful and fretful spirit.

Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen. Ephesians 3:20-21.

There is a lot of work I can and should do in my garden, but the harvest is ultimately the Lord’s. This is His garden, not mine. I am called to care for His creation and love as He loved, tirelessly, sacrificially, and unselfishly. He is able to accomplish… anything, creation with a word.

My role is to love and serve and look to Him.

Betsy

Netting

I lost a tomato the other day. One day it was on the vine; the next it was gone. Despite the marigolds. Time to take defensive actions.

There’s a wonderful movie, Biggest Little Farm, about a couple who bring natural predators onto their farm to combat threats to their crops. Ducks to combat snails; dogs to combat coyotes; owls to combat gophers. After seven years, their farm is in balance, and they harvest a crop.

I’m not that patient or that eager to invite predators into my yard. Instead, I covered my tomato plants with netting and doused the ground with hot sauce.

Netting is tricky. It catches on everything – sticks, weeds, buttons, watches, glasses. Nick had erected metal poles for the netting, allowing the plants to grow tall under the fabric. Each bolt snags the fine mesh.

Two years ago, most of my tomatoes were stolen by critters, even with the bird netting. Between the marigolds and the hot sauce, I am praying the critters find easier dining. That summer, a dispute with a friend had robbed me of my peace just as the squirrels had robbed the garden. In God’s clever way, He is reminding me once again how I often let circumstances rob me of my peace.

Peace and joy and love are fruits of the Holy Spirit, brought to fruition by His presence in my life. When I let circumstances rob me of His fruit, I am throwing away my past growth and efforts as well as depriving the larger world of His gifts. It may take work, but I need to conscientiously protect the tomatoes in my garden and His fruit in my life.

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power. Put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil…. take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. Ephesians 6:10-17.

Our shields can be tricky and our swords awkward. My faith catches on my emotions, my friendships, my concerns. I wonder if I am doing life “right.” Sometimes I wonder if there is a right way, a right side to be on when people disagree. Because people will disagree. Even good-hearted, God-fearing, walking-the-walk Christians.

For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified. 1 Corinthians 2:2.

The netting I can put over the fruit growing in my life is scripture. Daily immersion in and meditation on the Word of God. Daily prayer and stillness. Giving all my roiling emotions into the Lord’s hands and asking for His guidance.

I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know you are my disciples, if you have love for one another. John 13:34-35.

Jesus’s love for others angered people, even good-hearted, God-fearing, walking-the-walk people. He touched lepers and ate with sinners and spoke to Samaritan women. Am I that loving? Do I love just as Jesus has loved me?

I lost a tomato yesterday. I lost my peace and joy as well. If your garden is suffering as well, join me in protecting the fruit of the Spirit. Join me in learning to love as Jesus loved.

Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit with in me. Do not cast me away from your presence, and do not take your holy spirit from me, Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and sustain in me a willing spirit. Psalm 51:10-12.

Love in Christ, Betsy

In Secret

The tall green stalks are brown and falling to the ground. It is too hot, and they are too old to stand tall and green any longer.

This is good news. These dying plants means the garlic bulbs are ready to harvest.

When I planted the cloves last fall, the instructions indicated that they would sleep all winter, start to grow in the spring and be ready for harvest in late summer. I think they were written for a different climate. My garlic grew all winter. Now they have reached maturity.

Our warmer weather has left me with smaller garlic bulbs than might have grown further north, but they have grown. A bulb of four or five cloves for each single clove I buried. And all with very little effort on my part.

I couldn’t even see the growth happening. Unlike the rest of my garden, this garlic grew in secret.

In happens that way in life sometimes. We can’t see what is happening out of sight. What we do see, the tall green stalks, may wither and die. It is not until we uproot the plant that we discover the delicious reward that God has given us in secret.

But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. Matthew 6:6.

The growth on my tomatoes is obvious. They are taller, dotted with blossoms, yielding green fruit that is getting larger and lighter by the day. Sometimes life is like that as well. The rewards for our effort seem instantaneous, obvious. Sometimes, God’s Spirit nudges us to action, and when we act, joy erupts. We make that call; the person needed to hear from someone. They are happy; we are happy. Everyone involved is blessed by the presence of God in the little things of life.

But sometimes life is more like the garlic bulbs. It doesn’t look good. It looks like a dying plant. The good news comes in the uprooting.

I pull up the first bulb. The ground releases it easily. The bite of garlic fills my nose, mixed with a hint of wet soil. What a beautiful sight!

Beside it grows the basil, and as I pinch off the maturing leaves, I know pesto in in my future.

My mouth waters in anticipation.

God is planning a marvelous feast for us. Some of the ingredients are bright and beautiful and out in the light for all to see. Like my tomatoes and pepper, they thrive on the sunlight and show their bright colors proudly. Some parts of the feast, like the basil, fill the air with their sweet aroma. And some are being grown in secret, out of sight, waiting for the day when God reveals them.

When I look at my garden, I see the marvelous diversity and inclusiveness of God. He created so many different plants that bless us in so many ways. Some with luscious fruit, some with edible roots, some with tasty leaves. And the best recipes combine them.

I mix the garlic and basil from my garden with the nuts and olive oil from someone else’s garden and add cheese some cow provided. I was given a new food processor for Christmas and the pesto-making is easy. What wonderful gifts! What an amazing example of how the world can work together to produce something marvelous.

The garlic reminds me to never underestimate what God is doing in secret, out of my sight.

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts higher than your thoughts. For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish the thing which I purpose, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it. Isaiah 55:8-11.

Betsy