Ever the home educating supporter, Grams gave us a little strawberry plant to farm around this time a year ago.
Life was not kind to our little strawberry plant. Not really being the farming type and all.
She was gnawed by the mutt dog.
Rarely remembered to be watered.
Never fertilized.
Tipped over by the hurricane.
Only to be sloppily slapped back into her container where she was then left out for the winter to freeze. Her soil frozen all cockeyed in place.
She slept forgotten in the backyard. Until the grass was long enough to mow. Only remembered because her little home had to be moved out of the mower’s way.
I was somewhat impressed to find her alive and green, clearly refusing to give up, as I moved her to a different location.
And even more impressed when the next time she had to be moved – there were just three little white blossoms. Bitty enough to be considered cute.
The promise of sweet yumminess to come.
The irony struck me. Not to get all sappy on you…but this little plant is a survivor. And I can’t help heart connecting with her.
The kids and I have been faithfully watching her blossoms yield their promise.
Although, we’ve still forgotten to water her.
Thankfully God remembered. It’s been a rainy Spring.
One blossom morphed over night. Big and green and perfectly heart shaped.
Bristel (because she’s the closest we have to the farming kind) has run outside each morning to give us a redness report. Sometimes dragging me with.
Finally, this very morning the very first strawberry was ready. Fully matured. Ripe. The promise was ready to be eaten.
They were supposed to split it three ways.
Bristel just apologized saying it was just too yummy that they forgot.
I told her no worries. It made my heart smile anyway.
And maybe I’m a total sappy head.
And maybe I’ll lose some of you here with my sappy thoughts.
But it’s my blog. I’m allowed to sappy if I want to.
:: smile ::
I saw a reflection of my life in that little strawberry plant’s.
And I am reminded that even though there are dark, stormy stretches when Life sucks every ounce of energy you have just to survive…
and it feels like Winter will never end.
But…
Spring is coming.
He remembers.
And there will be blooms. Promises of beautiful things to come.
“…weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.”
-- Psalm 30:5
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