Summer’s Perfection

     “The perfect tomato!” I held it in my hand and felt it’s plump, juicy roundness. It was still warm after being plucked from my neighbor’s garden. We have a barter system. They give me their excess tomatoes and I bake homemade bread for them. It works. I  stand over this little marvel, knife in hand and hesitate. Shame to destroy such perfection, but then again, it’d be a greater shame not to eat it!
     Tomatoes represent summer to me. I remember my mom’s garden, how she would come in wiping the sweat off her forehead with a dirty gloved hand. In her other hand would be a bowl filled with deep red tomatoes. Her offering of love to us.Plan, till, sow, water, reap. An age-old cycle repeated before my eyes.A sermon in a vegetable.A visible reminder of my Father in Heaven’s love and his commands to us. 

John 9:4 (New International Version)

⁴As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work.

Plan, till, sow, water, reap. Amen.