Have you ever grown a garden?
A real garden?
Like, tomato plants that must first be pruned, then planted well. Nice and deep into good soil. Watered and nurtured. Cared for and protected.
Not too much sun, or they will scorch. Yet, they need sun to grow.
You must be careful not to put them beside certain fruits and veggies. They will give off too much acid or too much of some other chemical and zap the life from that tomato.
You must protect them from the dangers of critters that also like tasty garden munchies.
Do not water excessively and then leave to dry out, for this will cause the tomatoes to split. No, you must water diligently. Making sure you give enough, but also making sure to not give too much.
Water is also best at the root of the tomato plant, rather than on the fruit itself. You see, the bees, those pesky bumble bees, have a job to do. They must taste and spread the pollen that so drive our allergies crazy in the spring. The pollen is sent through the air and scattered on the plants and this pollen helps to produce the luscious fruit we call tomato.
That's another thing...A tomato is actually a fruit, yet most people consider them vegetables. They are given an identity, yet we try to change this and make them fit the category we choose for them to be in.
You must twine or tape tomatoes to a stronger source to keep them upright so that they won't wilt. Because if they are allowed to wilt and not tied to a cage or plank or other strong structure, they will fall over and the fruit you fought so hard to produce will then fall and rot. And all the hard work will have been for no gain.
And then you must pick the fruit at just the right moment. You can't wait until they are too red, you can't pick them while they are yet too green. They must be just right.
And when you pop that first bite of summer tomato in your mouth; all the hoeing, all the watering, all the toil and the suffering come to "fruition". A party of flavor bursts forth in your mouth! What a wonderful journey. What a wonderful blessing.
Today, I was folding towels with my 16 year old son. He is diagnosed with Mild Mental Retardation. Although I do not like that word, that is his formal diagnosis. He is 16, yet his mind is more like that of a 2nd grader. He is high functioning and will be able to be mostly independent with a watchful eye.
So, dear son and I were folding towels. And being the Type A personality that I am, I like my towels folded in a certain way. I like all folds to be laying the same direction and I hate seeing the tag. Being the sweet MR child that my teen is in his mind, he was happy as a lark in that he was simply helping fold the towels.
I began correcting him. "Now son, Mommy likes the wash cloths folded in this direction. Make sure you tuck in the tag. Then, lay them all facing the same way so they look pretty in the cabinets."
We made it through the folding of the wash cloths.
The towels were another matter.
After about 5 full minutes of being patient, I kinda took over the folding and began directing him to do other things.
Once the towels and wash cloths and hand towels were ready to be put away, there he was, ready and eager to help mom again.
So, I sent him on a journey to the kitchen to put the dish towels away. I don't have to look at them as I rarely do dishes any more.
Here, he comes again. "I did it", spoken in mono-tone. His cue to me, that he is ready for his next assignment.
I pass him several hand towels and four wash cloths to be placed under the sink husband and I share. I grabbed the armload of towels and followed him in.
He haphazardly places them under the sink and turned to me awaiting my response.
"Let's pull that one back out because those colors do not match. We'll place it with the brown cloths."
He pulled it out, destroying the pretty little tower of cloths that are usually lined up as if on a store's white display the night before the big sale.
"No, son. Now you have to fix those back. Match the colors. No, put the whites on the bottom because there are fewer of those and brown on top because we use those more." I try to remain calm as he is single-handedly destroying my towel cabinet with eager desire to do a good job.
Now he's put the green towel under the beige towel, and that will never do!
"OK, son. Thank you for your help. Mommy will get the rest." I brushed him aside and began to re-do everything his man-child hands with the mind of a 7 yr old had tried to do.
Quickly, I made pretty the towels under the bathroom vanity cabinet, that no one would see but husband and myself.
Quickly, I had destroyed a moment in time, that I can never recover, that could have been used to show fruits of the spirit....love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, self-control. All but faithfulness. I had the chance to grow in all areas but one.
My fruit had fallen on the ground and was rotten.
As the Holy Spirit chastened my heart, I rotated the next load of laundry and went to my Bible to look up scripture.
There are so many wonderful scriptures on patience, kindness, kids, blessings, family. So many.
But mostly, my heart just kept thinking about the tomatoes we are about to plant. And how my son was like those little, fragile tomato plants. My son. My little tomato that I've purposed to nurture, promised to protect and proudly encouraged all these years. I had let him down.
It was only a moment in time. And he is only one tomato blossom. But the Lord saw it. I crushed his spirit because I wanted my cabinet to be neat. I was more concerned with the way my fruit looked than the way my fruit tastes and that my fruit will produce more fruit. I was like the den of vipers that pray flowery words in public and the Lord chastised me too.
I humbly share this rotten story and make myself vulnerable be an encourager to you if you've ever made a similar mistake. It's never too late to grow your garden. And sometimes, you can cut away the rotten part of the fruit, and what's left is just as sweet. And even further, you can prune that little sucker (the shoot that begins to grow between the "Y" of a branch) and make the plant even stronger.
God's grace and beauty and flavor never ends. So don't despair. If you have made a mistake lately, pull up yer big girl britches and ask for forgiveness and carry on!
We have work to do, girls! That garden ain't gonna weed itself, ya know!
As a matter of fact, I've got a little tomato that needs my attention!
