The kids are settling in for bed when we hear a boisterous knock on the front door, followed by a large booming voice. It is Ruben, our neighbor, arriving with One Massive Zucchini.
We laugh at its size. Young Lady promptly adopts it, carrying it around like a baby. I warn her to not get too attached, that we will eventually eat said vegetable. She is not fazed.
We are likewise tantalized by the promise of harvest in our own backyard. There is nothing quite so delicious, so delightful, as firstfruit.
The Holy Love Letter also speaks of firstfruits, of offering the best of our harvest to the One who supplied it in the first place. Far from a punitive mandate, this is celebration at its best, an invitation intended to bring delight to both giver and recipient.
We give, because He gave first.
Makes me wonder what type of harvest He is cultivating in the garden of my own heart. How quick am I to take joy in offering back the firstfruits of who I've been, and who I am becoming? And do I trust Him to supply the harvest, no matter how big or small it might look from my limited point of view?
For generous neighbors, ripening tomatoes, and hearts ready for harvest,