Month: August 2026

Hidden by Weeds

I did a little long-overdue weeding of my cucumber patch and look what I found – a cucumber hidden by the weeds, over ripe and rotting on the ground.

My first thought was anger at myself for having missed it when it was green. If I had kept the weeds at bay, if I had been more diligent in training the cucumbers to the climbing cage, if, if, if. We’ve all done that, or, at least, I hope I’m not the only one who does that. But who knows why I missed it. It doesn’t change the fact that I did. Coulda, woulda, shoulda, didn’t.

It’s got me thinking about other kinds of fruit that could be hidden under other kinds of weeds.

I’m in the middle of a rather large purchase of lake front property right now, and it has me anxious. I know, do not be anxious about tomorrow, but I really want this to happen and am missing my husband. I am riddled with concern that I am messing it up or forgetting something vitally important or making a huge mistake or biting off more than I can possibly chew. I am letting the weeds grow up.

As for what fell among the thorns, these are the ones who hear; but as they go along their way, they are choked by the cares and riches and pleasures of life, and their fruit does not mature. Luke 8:14.

Or it rots unseen.

When I am anxious, I tend to be short with people, easily agitated, impatient. Love and gentleness may be present in my life, but it is hidden when I am anxious. And if I don’t tend to these weeds now and let that fruit be seen, the opportunity to do so may be lost.

Because that cucumber when ripe would have been a blessing. I love cucumber sandwiches. I love to munch on crispy slices, plain or with a little basil. Cucumbers are a wonderful addition to corn salad or tossed salad. But the moment for that cucumber to be a blessing has passed. It was lost because I let it be hidden under the weeds.

Now and for the next few months I will be dealing with a host of new people, attorneys and landscapers, builders, surveyors, and the corps of engineers to make this lake property a reality. I will have many opportunities to bear the Spirit’s fruit and further the kingdom, or hide that fruit under the weeds of anxiety, the cares and pleasure of life. And if that fruit is hidden now, it may never have the opportunity to bless the person for whom God is growing it.

Perhaps this rotting cucumber is calling me to weed now and avoid the coulda, woulda, shoulda of missed opportunity.

Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7.

I pick the rotting cucumber and add it and the pulled weeds to the compost pile. God can turn even our failures into blessing. And I head inside to spend some time weeding my soul as I have weeded the garden.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Not Dead Yet!

The vegetable plants are dying; even the weeds are wilting. As the temperature nears one hundred again, most of my plants have called it quits for the year. Enough already, it’s too hot.

I can relate. The afternoons have found me huddling in my house, air conditioner churning away, book in hand. Even the lake is little respite as the water is warm and the breeze even warmer. What did people do before ac?

I go to the garden while the sun is still low in the morning sky. Already the dew has evaporated in the heat. I water my dying plants and look for signs of life. My basil, oregano, and peppers still survive. The raspberry and fig seem undeterred. My poor cucumbers are almost gone. Almost.

Above the browning leaves and dying stalks, amidst the weeds that grow no matter what, a lone cucumber plant is holding forth. Like a character in a British comedy, I hear him cry. “I’m not dead yet!” Okay, mostly dead, or that is, alive.

What a reminder this little plant is to not jump to the ending too soon.

Yes, it is mid-August, and the cucumbers will die off soon, but that is no reason to call them dead before they are. Unlike my tomato plants which have been dead from blight for a month now, these cucumbers still have life in them. Who knows, with cooler temperatures and ample water, they may still produce.

Having faith can feel naïve sometimes, like foolishness even (maybe especially) to ourselves. Any sane person would know that the cucumbers are on their last leg and there is no point in nursing along the dying plant in a fanciful wish that they will produce at this late stage. Any sane person would know that a dead man doesn’t just rise from the grave and walk again, not after he was true and fully dead.

For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. 1 Corinthians 1:18.

Because with God, nothing is impossible. Let that sink in a minute. Let that shake your cynicism, your world-wise skepticism. It’s not normal for a sea to part, a virgin to give birth, or the sun to move backward on the sundial, but can you say with assurance that God didn’t make it possible? Are you so sure that your constraints can be applied to an eternal, omniscient, all-powerful God?

I don’t know that God will cause cucumbers to grow on this hardy plant, but I believe He can. And in that faith, I will water and tend this little plant for as long as it is green. I will move forward with plans that may not come to fruition. I will work to be kind to those who hurt my feelings and gentle toward those who anger me.

And in those relationships that have been damaged by broken trust, unkind actions, differing agendas, I will hear the faint whisper of “I’m not dead yet.” Who knows, with cooler temperatures and ample water, they may still live.

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 1 Corinthians 12:7.

What are you facing today that makes you want to throw up your hands and walk away? What hope do you harbor that wisdom would say is foolish? What are you bearing that is just too much, what plant are you watering in hopes that it will survive? Keep bearing, keep believing, keep hoping, keep enduring.

God is not dead, not even mostly dead. He is alive and well and active in the world. And with God, nothing is impossible.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Figs

School has started and summer draws to a close. My garden is winding down as well. The leaves on the cucumber plants have begun to wither and there are no more blossoms on the peppers. Soon it will be time to harvest the basil and freeze pesto for the winter. But my figs – they are telling a different story.

I have eaten ripe figs in early August, so I know that these figs may be ripening late, but what a gift! This is year three for my fig tree, the year they are due to bear fruit, and my little tree is loaded with green buds. As I slowly dismantle my garden, I know these buds will grow larger and turn purple, soft, and delicious.

The promise of fruit, the waiting as the plant grows, the excitement as the fruit appears, this anticipation is one of the great joys of gardening.

So often, our food needs are met immediately. We go to the store, get what we want, and eat it. Is it winter? That is no problem. Someone has shipped fruit and vegetables from a warmer clime or grown them in a hothouse. You can get almost any produce even on the coldest days. No waiting, no anticipation.

A garden reminds us that God did not create a world where our wants were met immediately. He created a world of seasons, of fluctuations in temperature and rainfall, of planting and waiting.

Be patient, therefore, beloved, until the coming of the Lord. The farmer waits for the precious crop from the earth, being patient with it until it receives the early and the late rains. James 5:7.

It’s hard to be patient. It’s difficult to wait. How long, O Lord?

As children, we must wait to grow up, until we are large enough, smart enough, old enough, until we are mentally and physically capable. As adults we must wait (hopefully) for the right spouse, the right job, the right place to live. We wait to have children and then wait for them to mature. We wait for wrong doers to be brought to justice and good people to get a reprieve from their troubles. We wait for God to change the people around us and, if we are honest, to change us as well. We wait for figs to ripen.

While waiting, we continue in our daily tasks of tending. We water and weed the garden. We struggle at the challenges of the day. We help those around us. We aid those who are hurting and love our neighbors. We pray and meditate on scripture. We listen for God’s call to us and follow Him.

He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? Micah 6:8.

And as we go about our tasks, the fig ripens. The child grows up, we find a soulmate, we find purpose in a vocation, wrongs are righted, and prayers are answered. We may even realize that we have been changed by the presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives.

The day will come when these figs are ready to harvest. The day will come when we are ready to face the Lord. The day will come when God puts all his enemies under his foot. Until that time, persevere in your daily tasks, pray without ceasing, savor the joy of anticipation, learn the peace of patience, wait for the fig to ripen.

Because those figs would not taste good today, but in the future, they will be delicious!

Love in Christ, Betsy

Compost

I am grateful for the tomatoes I picked earlier in the season because that is all I am getting this year. The blight has taken the rest of my plants, including the new ones. The ground is soggy from all the rain preventing me from taking much more action this late in the season.

My friend’s garden has yielded abundant large red tomatoes, but not my garden, not this year.

Failure is just a way of showing us where we can improve. A challenge; a test. My soil is damaged and I will need to intentionally restore it this fall.

To help the effort, I started a compost pile where the sugar snaps grew. I collect my non-animal food trash, add it to dead leaves and old straw, and toss them with a rake every few days. Our daily rains have kept the pile damp and moldering. The ever-growing combination of leaf litter, coffee grounds, straw, and vegetable waste will not only benefit the ground it’s on now but hopefully replenish the tomato plot when I move it there.

My original plan was to move the compost in September, but since my tomato plants are all dead or dying, I will move it in August. When I take down the fence in September, I can begin working the compost into the soil where I plant the tomatoes and let some clover grow.

There’s no guarantee that this will work. But if I am to produce tomatoes, I need to provide the plants with better soil. Like the gardener and the fig tree, I’m not willing to accept the failing crop.

Then he told this parable: A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. The gardener replied, “Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it.” Luke 13:6,8.

Manure. Vegetable waste. Leaf litter. Refuse or worse. This is what the soil needs to enable the plant to bear fruit. Throw some s*** at it.

Yep, that may be what we need as well. It’s certainly not what we want. We don’t want to be mushrooms, kept in the dark and fed manure. We don’t want our lives uprooted and covered in cast-off trash and excrement. Even if that’s not literal, life can feel that way at times, and it is not fun.

But sometimes that may be just what we need. We may need to feel like we’ve been dug around. We may feel like all we get are the dregs. We may feel put upon and afflicted. We may be put upon and afflicted.

So, we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this light and momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure. 2 Corinthians 4:16-17.

We just need to have faith that God is doing something, something that will enable us to bear good fruit. We may need what is afflicting us, whatever compost has been tossed in our lives, to grow. Whatever gross, yucky, trashy, uncomfortable thing is going on in our lives right now might be just what we need. Faith says God knows what He is doing and that He will work all things together for good for those that love Him (Romans 8:28).

Failure shows us where we can improve. My soil needs improvement and replenishment. My life may as well. That may come from God digging around and adding manure to my life, just as I dig around and add compost to my garden. All in preparation for a bountiful harvest and the weight of glory.

Love in Christ, Betsy