THE PUMPKINS HAD COME!
I felt like... maybe... I could at least breathe in and breathe out. I felt like... maybe... we were going to make it, too. The hope I had in the petunias shifted to the pumpkins. The life-cycle of my beloved petunias was complete, and I felt free to let go and plant fall mums in their place.
The arrival of mums is one of the first indicators that harvest will soon be in full swing. Oh how our souls have longed for this year's autumn harvest. We tried to soak in every hope and encouragement from the arrival of pumpkins and the planting of mums, because we barely made it out of summer alive. Actually, I am not convinced we really did, but harvest time would bring new grain into the storehouse, and new hope to our souls. Right?
This was the last picture that Carrie sent me on October 24th. She included with it this description:
"Long after the pumpkins came, way longer than what was expected, and long, long after all hope was given up..." Her flowers were still blooming.
This truth prodded my soul, but my petunias had long been thrown away, my pumpkins were compost, and our lives... sigh... just sigh... Where was our harvest?
The very same day I received the picture of my dear friend's still-flourishing flowers, I walked outside to refill the bird feeders that were on our patio. When I turned to head back into the house, this is what I saw.
God bless this tomato plant. Ragged. Frayed. Tired. Bedraggled. We had long given up hope on this, as well, much like Carrie and her petunias.
Every branch, whether appearing dead or alive, was laden with tomatoes. This precious plant had more than 60 tomatoes to gift us.
My thoughts were so consumed with the petunias and pumpkins, I had lost interest in giving this tomato in our backyard proper care. I had abandoned it, yet, against all odds, it was still working hard to bear fruit.
Hope was trying to nudge me from somewhere I had never even considered, and I needed fresh perspective.
I WASN'T LOOKING FOR HOPE IN THE RIGHT PLACE.
Something else wise Carrie said to me, "God's message is everywhere." Yes. Yes, it is. When all appears to be forlorn, open your eyes, and look elsewhere.
Determined not to let rotten pumpkins haunt me, I took my kids to the pumpkin farm to choose fresh-from-the-field pumpkins.
And at the dinner table, I couldn't have been more poignantly reminded that a form of harvest was right there in front of me.
Our life circumstance still hasn't changed, but we are hanging on and trusting for harvest, even in the eBay business.
I came across this box of flower bulbs at the pumpkin farm yesterday. I didn't notice it until I got it home.
Thoughts that have been swirling around in continual prayers for weeks finally united. My eyes were opened and I chose to see hope here in this new place.
FALL IS FOR PLANTING.
Maybe...just maybe, for the Sargent family, the harvest will still come? I HAVE TO BELIEVE that it will, and WE MUST PERSEVERE. Maybe...just maybe, you are waiting, too? Even though fall is typically thought of as harvest time, right now we are going to choose to plant, wait, and trust.
HARVEST. WILL. COME.
The arrival of mums is one of the first indicators that harvest will soon be in full swing. Oh how our souls have longed for this year's autumn harvest. We tried to soak in every hope and encouragement from the arrival of pumpkins and the planting of mums, because we barely made it out of summer alive. Actually, I am not convinced we really did, but harvest time would bring new grain into the storehouse, and new hope to our souls. Right?
Two short weeks after I purchased the pumpkins, I walked outside to discover that they had rotted.
THE. PUMPKINS. ROTTED.
My heart sank to my toes. Tears quarreled with anger and won. I couldn't begin to imagine what this symbolism meant for us. We were slammed with discouragement, and I threw my pumpkins in the garbage.
My dear friend, Carrie, began messaging me the chronicle of her own petunias sometime around mid-August. Too much rain? Too much heat? Were they going to make it? She would send me an update once every week or so. Our hearts and souls and hopes were both engrossed. Towards the end of September, her messages to me were more timely than she would ever realize. She had given up deadheading her flowers, but they were still hanging on. Her pumpkins weren't rotten, either. {wink~wink~smile} By mid-October, she shared with me how she felt bad for giving up on her petunias. Even still, they were prospering.
This was the last picture that Carrie sent me on October 24th. She included with it this description:
This truth prodded my soul, but my petunias had long been thrown away, my pumpkins were compost, and our lives... sigh... just sigh... Where was our harvest?
The very same day I received the picture of my dear friend's still-flourishing flowers, I walked outside to refill the bird feeders that were on our patio. When I turned to head back into the house, this is what I saw.
God bless this tomato plant. Ragged. Frayed. Tired. Bedraggled. We had long given up hope on this, as well, much like Carrie and her petunias.
Every branch, whether appearing dead or alive, was laden with tomatoes. This precious plant had more than 60 tomatoes to gift us.
My thoughts were so consumed with the petunias and pumpkins, I had lost interest in giving this tomato in our backyard proper care. I had abandoned it, yet, against all odds, it was still working hard to bear fruit.
Hope was trying to nudge me from somewhere I had never even considered, and I needed fresh perspective.
I WASN'T LOOKING FOR HOPE IN THE RIGHT PLACE.
Something else wise Carrie said to me, "God's message is everywhere." Yes. Yes, it is. When all appears to be forlorn, open your eyes, and look elsewhere.
Determined not to let rotten pumpkins haunt me, I took my kids to the pumpkin farm to choose fresh-from-the-field pumpkins.
And at the dinner table, I couldn't have been more poignantly reminded that a form of harvest was right there in front of me.
Our life circumstance still hasn't changed, but we are hanging on and trusting for harvest, even in the eBay business.
I came across this box of flower bulbs at the pumpkin farm yesterday. I didn't notice it until I got it home.
Thoughts that have been swirling around in continual prayers for weeks finally united. My eyes were opened and I chose to see hope here in this new place.
FALL IS FOR PLANTING.
Maybe...just maybe, for the Sargent family, the harvest will still come? I HAVE TO BELIEVE that it will, and WE MUST PERSEVERE. Maybe...just maybe, you are waiting, too? Even though fall is typically thought of as harvest time, right now we are going to choose to plant, wait, and trust.
