Tiny dots of red

 

Our neighbourly farmer Matt came along in the afternoon and ploughed the driveway, shifting the drifts and leaving an even surface. So grateful to him. We were able to get out to replenish the milk this morning.

Overnight, though, there was more snow, and we awoke to another day of winter wonderland beauty. The trees stand glistening in the sunshine against a backdrop of blue sky, slowly beginning to slide some drips and drops from the twigs and branches. But it’s freezing still out there, so by and large, even in midafternoon, the white-lined, otherwise-bare trees, still carry their weight of snow.

In this monochrome wilderness stands the rather stunted crab-apple tree. It’s a tree I’ve never liked. I wasted time trying to make crab-apple jelly once. Never again. So the apples still cling to the tree, and last week I nearly lopped them all off in an effort to sculpt a more pleasing shape.

I’m so glad I didn’t do it. Yesterday, we watched as three or four pigeons fought for those beautiful little red fruits. The weak twigs swayed under the weight of the big birds, voraciously devouring what they could.

Nothing is wasted in the economy of God. Even the fruits I dismiss as worthless come into their own at just the right time. Their startling dots of red bring a glorious relief to the otherwise black-and-white winter world.

Thinking spiritually, it’s easy to conclude that others’ fruits are more beautiful, more useful, more Godly even, than our own. I know I can do that. But as I watch the pigeons gratefully pecking at the crab-apples, I remember the words of The Teacher: He has made everything beautiful in its time.

I’m looking forward to some of my crab-apples coming into their own. Maybe this is the year. Maybe this is the time. Maybe not. What I do know is that God rejoices in every offering we make him, however humble it may be.