Juicy Fruit

 

The season of plums. Victoria plums.

A month or two ago, Don and I stood beneath the plum tree, hoping to see a good crop of the fruit forming. We saw very few plums. Maybe half a dozen.

So disappointing. Last year we had an amazing crop. We love them raw, or stewed on our cereal at breakfast. They freeze well and give a taste of summer in the depths of winter.

But this year we had low expectations of enjoying many plums at all.

However, Don brought in a second harvest of them last night. Lovely and plump, blushing pink and juicy. Not enough to freeze any, but enough to enjoy now. There are still a few ripening in the autumn sunshine.

Jesus is looking for fruit in my life. When I look at my life, I see only a small crop of beautiful fruit, for whom I am so grateful. But Jesus sees those tiny buds which are still nascent, still forming behind a flutter of leaves. Some for whom I pray; some who I perhaps don’t even know.

Jesus is the gardener who will bring in the final harvest of my life. I am so grateful that I don’t have to do the final reckoning. My job is to keep my feet on the path of truth, my eyes on the hope assured because of Jesus. To fertilise my words with wisdom and love, my actions with kindness and patience, my outlook with faith and hope.

I love you, Lord. All my life you have been faithful. I will sing today, and every day, of the goodness of God.