How to Reap a Harvest

I pull down green beans by the handful this morning in quiet dew-dampened garden. That bucket fills and fills and thanks overflows.

Why is it so hard for me to remember the harvest when planting time comes?

Come early spring, I can pile those packets on the table, tear them open and hold dried beans in hand, only to see work, futility, toil, and the everlasting wait...instead of purpose, opportunity, and invitation. Why do I forget that tiny seed, when tucked into earth and cared for, tended to, will soon reap bounty? That summer is but a blink and before long, buckets will overflow and canner- weights will rock and shelves will fill and tables will be set...bodies nourished?

Is it because during harvest, it's easy to forget that it is a result of that first planting? Do I remember that initial leap of faith that pulled me from the artificial comfort of my climate-controlled house into the untamed out-of-doors? Do I remember, as I snap and seal into jars, that the overflowing harvest is a result of patience and diligence...plain hard work?

Harvest never comes without the planting, without the toil

So it is with beans. (So it is with brains. So it is with boys.)

Proper perspective is gained through remembering the whole process..and I realize I must be fully immersed in each step if I am going to be rightly hopeful as I sow those seeds. I must delight in the hope of planting, ache through the pulling of weeds, let the sun drench my back as I guide long vines onto trellises, and feel weary bones give way to rest as I soak in cool baths. I must always keep my eyes on the harvest to come.

It is possible to love each step- to give deep thanks with each bean plucked from the vine.

And it starts with answering that invitation written in postcards disguised as dried beans.

Come, dream, discover, be filled with joy and thanksgiving...Watch what the Lord can do with bit of dead, dried bean...He can bring life.