Wild and productive

I’ve found a kindred spirit. Doug is a squirrel, too, eager to store up the bounty we find in the wild. Our lunchtime walks just now include carrying a couple of tubs in case we can’t resist another profusion of brambles.

Another kilo of brambles came in yesterday, and now sit, ready to be turned into jam. They are big, juicy and plentiful this year. So abundant that in a week or two I may be satiated totally, but I doubt it.

Our own vegetable and fruit garden has not been so fruitful this year. All our effort and toil have not brought much of a harvest. Yet out there on the edge of the woods, untouched by human hands, these beautiful fruits have grown. Tended and husbanded by our Father the gardener.

Thinking about the fruits of the Holy Spirit. In my own strength, I am no good at achieving inner peace, bucketloads of patience or self-control. As I trust in Jesus, though, the Spirit can bring out a harvest of fruit that I don’t even see. But others sometimes glimpse these fruits, often lying quiet and plump under a canopy of thorns and spiderwebs in the shade. These divine fruits can revive the weary heart and encourage the crest-fallen.

Some aspects of my life are wild and untamed. I am challenged daily in managing my Mom’s affairs, for instance, and if there is any fruit growing in this tangled undergrowth, it is all nurtured by God. I know that if I can just keep taking one step at a time, trusting in him, all will be well. All things will be well. He will weed out the bad and water the good. I pray that someone else, equally challenged and feeling ill-equipped for a task, will see the faithfulness of God revealed, and will be encouraged and fed, as if on plump, juicy brambles.

I am always finding God’s fruit in the lives of my friends and acquaintances. I am so grateful that the heavenly gardener knows exactly what type of soil and fertiliser each of us needs. I am so grateful for the family of God.