I spend most mornings on my back porch enjoying the coolness of the day. The neighborhood dogs haven’t been put out yet to bark incessantly at me, the squirrels or anything else they deem bark-worthy. All is quiet, save the birds singing in the new day. I talk to God, watch the kittens attack bugs and peer out at my garden.
While I was sleeping, God watered the garden for me.
I hope that all of my efforts will bring the harvest. I hope there’s enough to freeze, can, dehydrate and share.
But other than my hope in God’s growing system, there’s nothing more that I can do. I could wish for it, demand it, curse about it when something dies or turns brown, but in the end, it’s up to God to make each plant grow and produce.
It’s a reminder that if I put in the work in my garden or in people’s lives, he’ll take care of the harvest.
What a relief. God’s much better at it by far than I am.