Frazzled Berries

Little ones counting a bounty of berries ... 145, 146, 147 as they grew on the vine. Our mouths watered each day filling buckets to drench them in rain. Living in the desert, we cultivated the sandy soil, babied our seedlings and provided puddles. If only we had remembered the sun.

Scorching temps pounded our beloved berries. Sun drenched them in heat. To simply survive, the plants wilted, abandoned their fruit. Scorched leaves, shriveled berries we will never taste. We were so close.

A few months ago, counting the fruit of ministry about to ripen. We moved to the desert. We cultivated the soil in our hearts the best we knew how. Puddles of occasional nourishment watered our souls. If only we had remembered the sun.

I am not one to give up in gardening or life.

A simple remedy, a green piece of shade plastic nailed on boards. Covering the baby plants. protecting them from the scorching sun of the desert. Simple shade.

Nailing His shade over my life as well. Getting out from the scorching sun, I find rest, protection, comfort, and shade in His Word. Reading through Matthew, Mark, Luke, John and Acts, soaking in Jesus' words. Sitting in the shade of His promises regardless of the desert sun blazing around me. Never forget the sun. Find shade.

The story doesn't end ... gardening shears, clips, snips, dead fruit removed. The plants fought stubbornly as the itchy bumps on my arms prove. Somehow I feel I fought just as hard. Dead leaves and fruit pruned from my life. Anticipating sweet fruit of this next season.