Tag: faith

Figs!

I head out to the garden when the sun is just barely peeking over the treetops before it gets too hot. The humidity still brings sweat to my arms. I carry a bag but there is little to harvest. All but two of my tomato plants have succumbed to age and heat. The cucumber vines still bear small cucumbers and yellow blossoms, the promise of future fruit, but today, my garden seems as battered by the heat as I am.

I pick one cucumber and deadhead my basil. The garlic is not ready to uproot, and the oregano never took root. Despite my efforts to prune my raspberry, it still grows with a fervor that would be impressive if it weren’t inside my garden fence.

Then I arrive at my fig. It is now over six feet tall. I thought I had bought a “patio” fig tree, but now I wonder if I will need to transplant it. Maybe it and the raspberries. Or expand this area of the garden to wider than three feet.

And what are these growths on the stalk? Are these figs?

I read somewhere not to expect figs for three years. These growths are not ready-to-eat figs, but what promise they hold!

My friends who grow figs tell me that while fig trees thrive in most conditions, how much fruit they bear varies widely. One year they will have an abundance of fruit; the next year only a handful. And, in scientific parley, figs aren’t a fruit because they don’t come from a flower. Figs are the flower itself, inverted inward, containing little crunchies which are the fruit. Perhaps that is what makes them more nutritious than many fruits.

But geek-knowledge aside, these little blobs on their little stems mean my fig is moving in the right direction. And who among us doesn’t appreciate a little affirmation that we are moving in the right direction?

Therefore encourage one another and build each other, as indeed you are doing. 1 Thessalonians 5:11.

So, amid heat and lethargy and the lazy days of late summer, my fig tree proclaims the promise of good things to come. Maybe this year, maybe not, but sometime, God willing.

It’s tempting sometimes to become mired in the swamp of today’s dismal offerings. It’s hot. There is much that could be done, maybe even should be done, but there is nothing that must be done today. No one will care if I spend the day reading or binge-watching detective shows. What is the point of expending effort that undoubtably go unnoticed and unappreciated?

But those little baby figs tell me my efforts are not fruitless. Faithfulness in the little things like watering and weeding and tending my garden does not go unnoticed. Faithfulness in doing the laundry, cleaning the house, and preparing dinner is not unappreciated. Reading my Bible daily and spending time in prayer will bear fruit, maybe not today, but maybe sooner than expected.

So let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up. So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the good of all, and especially for those of the family of faith. Galatians 6:9-10.

Those little figs encourage me that I will have a harvest, but even if they weren’t there yet, I would have held out hope that they would show when the time was right. God is teaching me patience with these perennials. I’m to give them three years to bear fruit. Perhaps, as per Luke 13:6-9, even longer. Am I that patient with other people? Am I that patient with myself?

Back inside the coolness of my air-conditioned home, I push aside the urge to waste the day in worthless pursuits. There are little tasks to be done. There are responsibilities to uphold. Opportunities for faithfulness abound. There are figs on my tree. The promise of a harvest awaits.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Space to Grow

A friend of mine recently posted how her pumpkin and squash vines were taking over her garden.

Vines will do that. The first year my husband and I planted a garden, we put winter squash, summer squash, and cucumbers in a row with no dividers, no fence, and no trellises. They were everywhere. Twisting among themselves, growing across the yard, bearing fruit in the neighbor’s yard.

My friend says her vines have overpowered the rest of her garden, wrapped around the tomatoes, covered the herbs, choked the daintier flowers. Vines such as squash, cucumber, pumpkin, and zucchini grow horizontally, ever outward in search of new frontiers, boldly going where we would prefer that they not go.

Over the years I’ve learned to plant my vines far from the rest of my plant, surround them with fencing and give them something, anything, to climb on. None of this stops them from sending out tendrils into open spaces to explore beyond my boundaries, but it does slow them down and protect the rest of my garden.

At some point, their inquisitive and enthusiastic spirit will redirect its energies into producing fruit – cucumbers, squash, and pumpkins. If you give them enough space, this will happen before they overtake and overwhelm the rest of your garden.

Don’t you know people like that? At times, I am that person.

To my admittedly limited knowledge, no one has developed a less explorative vine, one that will color inside the lines and that knows its place.

As a gardener, it is my job to give these vines the space to explore without letting them infringe on my more sedate plants.

Like good stewards of the manifold grace of God, serve one another with whatever gift each of you have received… so that God may be glorified ion all things through Jesus Christ. 1 Peter 4:10-11.

Society today tends to value cooperation, collaboration, consensus, and cohorts. But some people need the opportunity to stretch and explore and seek new spaces. And just as my cucumbers are rarely stopped by my fencing, our efforts to constrain such free spirits rarely works. And maybe it shouldn’t. Maybe God made them that way for a reason, just as He made my cucumber vines.

We can encourage those plants to be more sensitive to the needs of those around them. We can give them space to explore where they are not infringing on others. Hopefully, we will encourage them to grow freely and with abandonment in the space provided while we provide a protected space that nurtures our plants with a quieter spirit.

There is room in my garden for diverse types of plants. There is room in God’s garden for every kind of plant. He created them all. He knows what is best for each one of them, and for each one of us. He is working to create the ideal environment for each of us to bear fruit for His kingdom.

There’s a good chance that my space won’t look the same as yours.

For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one, so it is with the body of Christ. But as it is, God arranged the members if the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single member, where would the body be? The eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you,” nor again the head to the feet, “I have no need of you.” On the contrary, the members of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable. 1 Corinthians 12:12,14,17-18, 21-22.

Good news, my friend. Grow in peace.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Summer Harvest

Tomatoes! It feels like years since I have had a successful tomato garden. Oh, I have picked a few tomatoes and enjoyed them, but it’s been a while since I picked more than I could eat.

My daughter, Kat Bair, writes a blog as part of her job as a ministry consultant. She has written about me not giving up on having a garden just because I have had years of less-than-success with it. I’d never really thought about it that way.

Tomatoes will grow in my yard. I remember years of taking tomatoes with me everywhere I went to pass them along to others. My less-than-success has been due to learning how to do the things my husband used to do, trial and error, new methods, discovering the details that impact success. And the weather, which is beyond any of our control.

This year’s rain has really helped. The squirrels get their water elsewhere. The tomato and cucumber plants have ample water to refresh them on these hot days. Not the steady soaking showers of Spring, but the sudden claps of thunder and downpours brought on by heat and clouds.

If my soaker hose is analogous to reading the Bible and praying every day, these storms are like inspiration and direction from the Holy Spirit, sudden, unpredictable, powerful, restoring.

And the results are exhilarating. Tomatoes! Large Better Boys, Romas and Cherries, smaller Early Girls. Plenty for me and plenty to share!

The point is this: the one who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and the one who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. 2 Corinthians 9:6.

It would have been easy to give up gardening over the past years. At times, the only thing that kept me planting and tending and watering was my commitment to you, readers, to write about it.

So, thank you. Your encouragement, your readership, has filled my tomato tray with fruit once more.

You, and of course, God, who sends the rains and the makes the sun to shine and enables the plants to bear flowers and produce tomatoes and cucumbers.

This fruit won’t last. It is here and good for eating for a limited time. I could preserve it somehow, and if food were scarce, I would, but I prefer to share my excess.

I pick out my best tomatoes and cucumbers and bag them up for the people with whom I will share them. A single tomato for those living in retirement homes, more for those at home with children.

I share because that is why God gives us excess – to share with those who need it and don’t have it, whatever “it” may be.

And if we preserve, continue working, continue praying, continue to be open to the soaking of prayer and the sudden storms of the Spirit, God will produce an abundant harvest in each of our lives.

So let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up. Galatians 6:9.

So here, in the middle of summer, persevere. Rest, rehydrate, and carry on. A harvest awaits.

Love in Christ, Betsy

The Spider in my Shower

She’s been there for a week now. She was there the morning after the bug man came to spray the inside and outside of my home, putting up an invisible fence to keep the bugs out. It seems she found herself on the wrong side of the fence and couldn’t get back home.

She’s harmless, a grandaddy long legs. My daughter was bitten by a brown recluse once. Not harmless. But this spider doesn’t even build webs. When I shower, she moves out of the spray and waits for the heat to stop. She could climb back down the drain that I presume brought her to my shower, but she doesn’t.

Perhaps the bright white shower is better than the dark and dirty drain. There is water here. Except for my showers, the space is cool and predator free. Probably food free as well, which could shorten her visit.

I debate moving her outside, but my clumsy fingers would probably harm her if I didn’t cause her to have a heart attack in her weakened state. I don’t wish her harm. I keep my distance, and she keeps hers.

I sure some of you would have killed her by now. Who wants to shower with a spider?!

But she’d gotten me thinking about God and how evil people exist in the world when He could just get rid of them all. I’m content to co-exist with this spider because, unlike the brown recluse, she is not evil. Most likely, the brown recluse is not evil either but tell that to my daughter’s leg!

If I were to kill all spiders because some of them are dangerous, wouldn’t that be analogous to blowing up a workplace because your abusive ex worked there? Or to hating all (fill in the ethnicity) because you had an unpleasant experience with one of them?

And isn’t what we consider evil, at its core, just an exaggerated version of the emotions we all have?

But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgement; and you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire. Matthew 5:22.

So, if I am liable to the hell of fire, which Jesus says I am, God cannot wipe out evil without wiping me out as well. And I don’t think God wants to get rid of ALL spiders. He may not want to get rid of any of them, as difficult as that may be for me to grasp. He sees the world from a much different perspective than I do. He regularly lets evil befall those He loves. Even His own son.

Heavy thoughts for a spider to generate.

The house cleaners are coming tomorrow, and I doubt they will let the spider continue to coexist with me. The cleaning solution would probably do her in if they don’t just kill her. So, her presence in my life is only for a short spell.

I don’t know if she appreciates my tolerance of her. I don’t know if she knows most people see spiders as threats. I don’t know if she thinks of people as threats and is re-evaluating her opinions. I don’t know that spiders have opinions at all, but they do instinctively shy away from the giant beings called people. They do, like the brown recluse, act to protect themselves when they feel threatened, even if the contact is unintended. Maybe, in their minds, we are the evil ones.

The Lord is not slow about his promise, as some think of slowness, but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance. 2 Peter 3:9.

I’m not sure how much longer this spider will live, but I will not kill her. The shower is big enough for both of us.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Summer Love

You may know it’s summer because the kids are out of school or the Fourth of July is mere days away, but I know it is summer when I have my first tomato sandwich.

Few things compare to the call of a red tomato dangling from its plant. It calls to something deep inside us – Take, eat. For the past few years, the squirrels have been taking and eating, sensing that same call. This year, it’s my turn.

I usually prefer my sandwiches on rye bread, probably Germanic genes expressing themselves, but not for a tomato sandwich. Only white bread will do, a soft and unassuming base to highlight the tang and tart and sweet of the tomato.

Later in the summer when the newness of having tomatoes wear off, I will add basil and fresh mozzarella to my sandwich, but I savor the first tomato sandwich without distractions.

I take a bit and let my taste buds absorb every drop of the tomato’s tang and its salty juices. The tender meat of the tomato fills my mouth and makes my eyes light up. Wow. That is good!

I have been looking forward to this sandwich since I put that little plant in the ground months ago. This sandwich is why I put that plant in the ground. Why I watered it and weeded it and fenced it and draped bird netting over it. All for this sensation.

My brothers and sister, whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance; and let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking in nothing. James 1:2-4.

At the risk of being sacrilegious, my friends, enduring the struggle of establishing a garden, tending it, and protecting it from predators has produced joy, this first tomato sandwich, lacking in nothing.

The garden isn’t a perfect metaphor for my walk of faith, but it’s a good one. Too often I focus on the grind of gardening, the daily attention it requires, the myriads of things that can go wrong, the nagging doubt that I am doing it wrong, the constant comparisons to other gardens.

But God calls us to tend our own garden. He promises it will be worth it. He encourages us to stick with it because the tomato sandwich it will generate is priceless.

In fact, the fruit that God promises to produce is so wonderful that any effort we may exert to encourage its growth will be washed away in the sheer joy of tasting the fruit. Every effort is worthwhile; nothing else compares.

Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it. Mattthew 13:45.

This tomato sandwich will soon be gone, and I will want another. A self at peace, a content and restful spirit, an open and generous heart, the joy of loving another, these fruits are eternal. These fruits only God can produce in us.

This tomato, like all my tomatoes, is a summer love. Wonderful, exciting, fulfilling, and short-lived.

God wants to grow eternal fruit in me, fruit that I can share with a hungry world, fruit that enlivens our senses and delights our souls.

By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things. Galatians 5:22.

He wants to grow that fruit in you as well. It may take a little effort on your part, a commitment to continue when it feels difficult or pointless. But one day that tomato will ripen and you will get to savor His love, and Wow. That is good!

Love in Christ, Betsy

Enthusiasm

I thought my cucumbers were enthusiastic plants, climbing their supports and stretching outside the fence, but they are mild in comparison to this raspberry plant!

In her second year, my raspberry plant has already birthed three new plants in the cracks in the cardboard covering. She is almost six feet tall. I sense I need to cut her back, hem her in, trim off the excess.

I have seen articles and studies on pruning, but I skim right past them. Tomato plants and cucumbers don’t require pruning. Although it’s possible they could be better if I did prune them…

Pruning is an important part of growing perennial plants, but I am new to perennials and have much to learn. Seeing this raspberry bush take over my garden and reach into the yard makes me want to learn. This can’t be best for the plant, best for the berry harvest, or best for me.

And yet, her growth is thrilling. Her enthusiasm for growth is contagious. I want to grow with enthusiasm and burst out all over the place!

My mother used to tamp down my enthusiasm on a regular basis, to the point where I felt like a wild pony trapped in a corral. But she understood. She had been a cheerleader in her youth; enthusiasm runs in my genes. Perhaps she was trying to prune me.

He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit, he prunes to make it bear more fruit. John 15:2.

I am tempted to use this as my guide for how to prune. I am sure Jesus’ listeners at the time knew how to prune; they were grape and olive growers. They were being asked to apply their gardening knowledge to spiritual growth. Perhaps that is what the Holy Spirit would like me to do – learn how to prune this raspberry bush, when and how and to what extent, and apply that knowledge to my spiritual life.

Perhaps the goal should not be excessive growth that spreads out everywhere, but a contained healthy plant that produces much fruit. My smaller tomato plants are covered in green tomatoes, while this huge raspberry produces few berries.

And her uncontained growth is casting a shadow on my fig tree, growing straight and true beside her.

Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. Philippians 2:3-4.

There’s a chance I, like my raspberry plant, have focused on the wrong thing – expansion verses fruit. There’s the possibility that my naturally enthusiastic self has spread beyond my boundaries and overshadowed another.

The raspberry bush cannot prune herself. It’s as if her enthusiastic nature can’t be contained. And I don’t want to stifle her; I just want her focused more on fruit than expansion. And that will allow my fig tree to flourish as well.

As for pruning my own enthusiasm, Jesus promises that the Holy Spirit will do this if we let him. He will prune us so that we will bear more fruit.

So, I will learn what I need to know about pruning and try to redirect my raspberry plant’s focus. Find the best way to encourage productive growth. Cut out the excess that her enthusiasm has rendered. I need to let the Holy Spirit do the same with me.

When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. John 16:13.

The first thing I need to do is learn. The main thing I need to do is listen. The Master Gardener, the creator of all gardens, the creator of all life, knows what I need to do.

Love in Christ, Betsy

First Tomatoes

I went out of town for a week and came home to red tomatoes! What a joy to see them there, peeking out from the green leaves. The squirrels didn’t steal them, the birds didn’t peck them, too much water didn’t split their sides. Ripe tomatoes!

The normal garden routine is to walk along the garden and watch the green tomatoes get bigger and bigger, then lighter and lighter, then see hints of pink and tints of orange arise. I put up the bird netting and seal off entry points for the squirrels and pray the tomatoes ripen before they are destroyed.

But sometimes the garden surprises me.

My little prodigy tomato plant brought me beautiful red cherry tomatoes while I wasn’t even looking.

Isn’t God amazing!

Should I be surprised they appeared the week of Pentecost, when God reminds us that He is the giver of gifts, the giver of power, and the source of all growth? God produced fruit on my tomato plant just as His Spirit produces fruit in our lives. Sometimes we work and struggle to help the fruit grow, and sometimes it suddenly appears like flames of fire or red tomatoes.

But there’s another reason these little tomatoes fill me with joy. For the past few years, my tomato plants have struggled. They may yet struggle this year, but these little red jewels fill me with hope and encouragement. Perhaps the effort I extend may actually result in the desired end – ripe tomatoes.

They are days when I love gardening for the activity itself – scooping up dirt in my hand and inhaling the soil’s scent. I sense a connection with the earth, the minerals in the dirt that are essential for life, the energy and life the soil brings. I sense the awakening of a long dormant part of my brain left by ancient ancestors who relied on the earth for daily survival.

Few things can compare to the scent of the basil and garlic plants, or the tart tang of tomato plant leaves. Sometimes just the joy of being outside makes gardening worthwhile. The bunnies and birds, the honeysuckle and fireflies, the tinkle of the creek and the swaying tree branches remind me of how good God is to us.

But I don’t garden for these sensations. I garden for the fruit. I want sugar snaps, cucumbers, peppers, and especially, I want tomatoes.

After walking in the creek for a while, I led my grandkids to the garden, and we picked those little red tomatoes. Two for each of them, which they ate walking beside the garden.

What a perfect gift.

Sometimes, I get tired of gardening and the effort it takes. Sometimes, the lack of visible results is discouraging. The same is true in my walk of faith. Sometimes, I get tired of extending the effort and discouraged by my lack of progress. Will reading my Bible today really make any difference? Do I really need to go to church today? I know I committed to this group, but they won’t miss me if I skip.

But then, God surprises me with a gift. Some word leaps off the page and I sense God speaking to my heart. I sit beside an old friend in the pew and reconnect. A woman in the group provides just the piece of information I need to finish my project. Ripe tomatoes on the vine.

His divine power has given us everything needed for life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. 2 Peter 1:3.

Put in the work. The tomatoes are worth it!

Love in Christ, Betsy

Six Years

The garden is thriving, green tomatoes grow on the branches, but I can barely see them through the cloudy mist in my eyes.

Six years. It’s been six years since cancer sent my husband to the Lord. You would think I would have “moved on.” Maybe I have. I don’t cry for him every day. I have found joy in writing, a purpose in learning. I have found ways to garden and lake and travel without him. But there are moments like today when the loss feels overwhelming.

We had so much fun together. Even when the cancer was eating away at his body, we would take long vacations at the beach and spend weekends on the lake. It’s harder to do those things alone; not the same when I do them with someone else. Nick had endless energy, and an intensity about living life, that I miss. Too often I am inclined to binge-watch some murder/detective/spy series and lose hours that could have been spent in better ways.

I wonder what he would think about my writing. It all came after his death. It would probably be as foreign to him as the hours I spent reading, a difficult task for his dyslexic mind. He was more interested in active pursuits, and he kept me busy.

But life, like my garden, is always changing. It does me no good to pine for what can never be again, at least not on this earth.

But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have died. 1 Thessalonians 4:13-14.

Someday, we will be together again on a new earth where Christ rules.

I will let myself grieve the temporary loss of the man I love, but I will continue to embrace the life that God sends me every morning. These days, like all days, are a gift. I am sure God would like us to use this day loving each other, helping each other, serving each other as Jesus served those around him.

Perhaps God wants me to spend this day thanking him for sending me Nick and the years we had together. So, thank you, Lord, that Nick kept this garden going over the years. Thank you that he erected poles and fencing and buried a hose line. Thank you for being able to go to the beach and the lake and store up treasured memories.

I walk along the garden and let the humidity of the morning bead my arms with water. I marvel at the red raspberries and miniature peppers. I thank Nick for keeping the garden going over the years. I thank God for the rain and the sunshine, the soil, the seed, and the fruit.

Life goes on. The sun rises and sets and days, then months, then years pass. Six years since those days when the earth seemed not to move. Can I take an hour today to re-live them? The day the doctor told me Nick might not live for two hours. (He lived four more weeks.) The day Nick shut his laptop for the last time. The day he agreed to Hospice. The day he took his final breath. The friends and family who gathered around, who held me up, fed me, and sent me flowers.

How can I forget any of that?

What a gift love is. That I loved someone; that someone loved me. That God placed us in community so that we can share our struggles, our grief, our memories. That we can share our growth, our joys, and our hopes as well.

Thank you for being part of my community. Thank you for reading along. Thank you for your understanding as I take a break to grieve.

If you have a moment, check out my author website and information about my novel-in-the-works at Betsy Davies | Author. A lot can happen in six years.

Love in Christ, Betsy

The Simple Things

The air is dense with moisture and the wet grass soaks my garden shoes. It has rained every day since my return from the mountains of Peru. I take deep inhales of the thick air, grateful for the oxygen it brings me so easily, grateful for the level, flat walk across my backyard.

I worried about leaving my garden unattended while I traveled, but I needn’t have. God blessed Middle Tennessee with a cool, wet May, and my garden is thriving. The cucumbers are covered in bright yellow flowers, climbing their trellises and reaching beyond the fence. The tomato plants are tall and green with tiny green tomatoes promising a hearty harvest. I even picked a little red one from my prodigy plant!

The raspberry plant is almost too big, and I found my first red berry this morning! The fig has returned and is green and growing. Life is good in my garden. Only the oregano seems to be struggling. It’s my first season to grow it, so it may just be too early, too cool, or too wet. It’s early June; it has all summer to grow.

Being here in the garden, tucking cucumber vines back inside the fence, complimenting my tomatoes on their growth, reminds me of who I am at my core. I am not a world traveler who revels in new places and new adventures and new challenges. I am a simple girl, who loves to putter in her garden and walk by her creek and listen to the birds call to each other.

God is in the simple things, the scent of mowed grass, the little green tomato, the spreading vine. God is in the wet lawn and the heavy clouds and the thick green hedgerow. God blesses me with bunnies eating clover and ducks in the creek. God has blessed me with a home that feels like home, comfortable, safe, familiar.

Of course, God is in the big things, the marvelous things as well. The majestic mountains, the ingenuity of past people, the diversity of plants, animals, languages, and cultures, the crossing of mountains from dessert to valley to rainforest. Mostly, I am amazed that people without trains, buses, and cars were able to traverse inhospitable lands and build cities, villages, roads, bridges, and complex gardening and watering systems. The Incan Trail is a vast network of walking trails that cover Peru well beyond the tourist areas. None of it is as easy as walking to my garden.

I wonder if the Incan people knew that what they were building would be admired hundreds of years later by people from all over the world. Perhaps they were just tending their gardens, studying the seasons, and admiring God’s creations. Perhaps, like me, they were just living their lives.

I had the opportunity to meet a few of their descendants, speaking their own language, a derivative of the one the Incans spoke, tending to their herds on land that had been in their family forever. The shepherdess couldn’t understand why I wanted to see her and the alpacas. She was just doing what she did every day. Like having someone watch me walk among my garden plants.

Perhaps that is the beauty of God in the simple things. He created all of it and declared it all good. The heavens, the earth, the plants, the animals, and us. He created us to live in harmony and community with each other. He inspired us to cross mountains and build bridges. He encourages us to see His constant presence in the world around us as we go about living our daily life, no matter how mundane our lives may feel to us.

Whatever your task, put yourself into it, as done for the Lord and not for your masters, since you know that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward; you serve the Lord Christ. Colossians 3:23-24.

It’s good to be home, back in my garden, back with my friends. May you sense the presence of God in the simple tasks you face today and live your life to His glory.

Love in Christ, Betsy

30, 60, 100fold

Cucumbers are easily my favorite plant in the garden. Aggressive vines, they fill whatever space I give them and reach for more. Rarely do I have a year when the cucumbers refuse to grow or don’t produce fruit. At this stage they are a luscious green hue and boast large leaves and spreading vines. But they are not identical. Similar plants planted next to each other in the same soil and nurtured in the same way still grow differently.

I don’t know why the plant on the left is so much bigger than the plant on the right. They are both healthy. They are both growing. I expect them both to yield cucumbers later this summer.

My grandkids are like this. Although they are twins, a boy and a girl, my grandson is significantly larger than my granddaughter. This may or may not be true their entire lives. I don’t know if the smaller cucumber will have a growth spurt and catch up to the size of his neighbor, or if it will always be a smaller plant. The beauty is – it doesn’t matter. Not in my eyes and not in God’s eyes.

Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain. Some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. Matthew 13:8.

In the parable of the sower and the seed, Jesus distinguishes the seed that was unable to bear fruit from the seed that did but is not critical of the seed that produces “only” thirtyfold.

If only I could be so gracious!

Comparisons and competition are an inevitable part of life, but I wonder if they need to be. I love to watch football and basketball, cooking competitions and singing competitions. I love to play bridge and mahjong. I like to win. But the truth is, I often lose. And in any competition, most people “lose.” If only one person can be the best, it’s a good chance that the person is not me, or you.

Fortunately, God does not call us to “win.” He askes us to bring our failures and weaknesses to Him and let him use them to further His kingdom. His “power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

In the parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14-30), The servant who presents four talents receives the same praise as the servant who produces ten. They both doubled what they were given.

Perhaps, the smaller cucumber plant is doing just as well, or even better, with what it started with than the larger one. Perhaps the plant producing 30fold faces obstacles unknown to us. Perhaps that harvest is more miraculous than the abundant 100fold harvest. Who am I to judge?

And by the time my cucumbers do produce, it will be difficult to determine which vines are producing which fruit. They will intertwine and climb together until all I see is a lovely cucumber harvest.

I am so grateful for my growing cucumbers, the large and small ones. All are evidence of healthy soil and sufficient water and nutrients. All are growing, and Lord willing, all will produce fruit. My role as the gardener is to encourage each one of them.

In yoga class, out teacher reminds us to keep our eyes on our own mat. Sometimes, that is difficult. The urge to compare and contrast is constant.

But when they measure themselves by one another, and compare themselves with one another, they do not show good sense. 2 Corinthians 10:12.

Instead, Let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith. Hebrews 12:1-2.

Jesus tells us that good soil produces grain, some thirty, some sixty, and some one-hundred-fold. All are cause for celebration.

Love in Christ, Betsy