Father Knows Best

There are those who are gifted in many areas, and those who are gifted in but one, but every one of us has some sort of God-given talent. It may be the skill to play an instrument, or the gift of relating well to elderly people. It may be the talent to paint a beautiful portrait or the knack for painting a house. It may be simply the ability to listen to someone who needs to talk.

All of us are given something. And most of us use those talents well.

The problem comes when we decide that although we like the gifts we've been given, we want more. And because we want more, we decide to take it without asking God what His opinion is. Even though we're clearly not meant for such gifts. Even though we have absolutely no inkling of how to do whatever it is. Even though we know for a fact we will fail miserably. We still try.

For someone who's tone deaf, it could be grasping for the talent to sing well. For someone who has two left feet, it could be attempting to dance. For someone who has no patience with children, it could be teaching a third grade Sunday School class.

For me, it's gardening.

I love flowers and plants. I love the smell of lilacs, mums, tuberoses, and gardenias. But most of all I love fresh vegetables. Tomatoes in particular. During the summer I just can't get enough.

Mom is the gardener in the family. Every year she puts out a garden that would put most farmers to shame. When I was growing up I was required to help in the garden; planting, hoeing, weeding, watering and harvesting.

I hated it.

I despised being out in the hot sun, bending over and pulling weeds. I hated that we didn't have a hose long enough to reach the garden. I had to fill up a bucket with water, trek all the way up the hill, then take a mason jar to dole out drinks to what seemed like 80 tomato plants. There were endless trips back and forth, back and forth, and with each and every step I remember wishing someone would mow the whole thing down and plant grass. Then there was hoeing. I remember trying to hoe weeds out of a row of onions. The ground was so hard the hoe bounced every time I tried to cut through the dirt. And then there were the trips up to the garden to get radishes, or beans, or onions, or whatever else Mom needed to make dinner.

The only time I DIDN'T complain was when I was eating the goodness that came from all those endeavors. Hey, I'm not TOTALLY stupid!

One day it came to me that Mom isn't going to be here forever. My supplier of fresh vegetables will eventually have to quit gardening. What will I do then? Being the proactive person I am, I decided it was time for me to start my own garden.

BIG mistake.

I have never been able to successfully grow any type of plant, unless weeds count. Those I can do in spades. With no work. No planting, even. No watering, no hoeing, and no harvesting. What could be easier? Yet society frowns on a garden filled with nothing but weeds. Go figure.

So it was off to the local hardware store. I was fortunate enough to find tomato plants at 75% off. Of course, it was August, and everyone else had set their plants out in May, but that didn't deter ME. Oh no. Because, after all, I WAS GOING TO GROW TOMATOES.

Having no garden plot per se, I decided to set all four plants out in my flower bed in front of the house. I enlisted the help of Son, and we dug and hoed and planted and watered and left my little plants to do their magic.

The next day it was 157 degrees in the shade, where it remained for more than a solid month. And did I mention how much I hate watering, weeding, and anything else that has to do with large amounts of sweat pouring from my body? Because this child was not made to do anything in the heat. Especially in the sauna it was this past summer.

So I watered. And I watered. And then I watered some more.

The plants, grateful for the water, grew. (Never mind that the weeds grew as well.) I got excited. Especially when I saw the first few blooms, which were a precursor to my delicious, mouthwatering, juicy, home-grown tomatoes.

But God had other plans.

The blooms dropped off as fast as they appeared. No amount of watering would save them. Finally, late in August, one lonely little tomato showed up. It was the size of a golf ball, if that. After waiting for what seemed like weeks, it finally turned red. I picked it and popped the whole thing in my mouth.

It was terrible. Acid-tasting, sour, and nothing like the tomatoes Mom grew.

As the weather cooled off, more tomatoes appeared. However, none of them ever ripened, and I could tell from their shape I'd bought the wrong tomato plants to begin with. Today I ripped the vines out of the ground. You know that potting soil the plants come in? It came out as well...in the same shape as the original pot I took the plant out of in the first place.

Oh, and I got the weeds as well. The big, glorious crop of weeds I can grow so very well.

So from now on I think I'll stick with the gifts God has given me. Oh sure, I'll probably try again next year with the tomatoes. Hope dies hard sometimes. But I won't neglect what He has truly gifted me with in order to pursue something that will never be up my alley. I'll rely on His judgment instead.

Because, after all, Father knows best.

1 Corinthians 12:4-6
Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who empowers them all in everyone.

1 Peter 4:10
God has given each of you a gift from his great variety of spiritual gifts. Use them well to serve one another.