Eternal Fruit

I can see it. The world around us is getting ready for what comes next. But first comes the fall.

Around our home, the trees have traded their vibrant greens for soft pastels of orange and red. As do I, they sense the nearing season. A cold winter awaits us all, they whisper among the branches.

Without warmth and shelter, the cold exacts its toll, so we all should prepare while there is still time. Many trees, having already gone dormant, have lost their glory, which now lies scattered on the ground. Their wind-blown leaves no longer provide shelter for the birds and critters that once nested in the branches above. These titans have fallen asleep for the season—their fruit and foliage nurturing the earth like nature’s compost and garden mulch. A new soil to prepare for next spring’s blossom. Some wildlings have fled south, while others prepare dens and stock up on nourishment to endure this coming winter’s blight.

“Therefore, since all these things will be dissolved, what manner of persons ought you to be in holy conduct and godliness.” 2 Peter 3:11

As the days grow shorter, the shadows lengthen, and the sun dips earlier each evening, I too am reminded to revive our garden for the winter and eventual spring.

Preparation should begin during the fall, before the frost claims the soil. Distracted by the world and its demands, I was too busy to tend to it this past year. A little neglect can go a long way toward losing a generation of precious fruit. Now weeds have encroached and overtaken what were once vibrant patches of tomatoes, potatoes, cucumbers, squash, carrots, and bell peppers.

Now they rule the ground where a fine garden once stood. I think it is time to till and nurture the soil once again—pulling the weeds and planting my favorite vegetables like garlic and onions that depend on the cold winter for their early development. I’ll seed the soil with spinach, perhaps, which will survive throughout the winter, blanketed by nature’s mulch and compost, and be ready to offer an early and delicious spring harvest.

 Like children, each plant has unique and special needs. Each one depends on us to provide the right soil and conditions for its growth. Yet in the end, every plant chooses its own fate, I think. Some will thrive, while others will not. Some require more attention, while others flourish with little more than water, light, and love.

So when the final winds begin to stir and the shadows lengthen across the earth, let the watchful ready their hearts. For the night will be heavy and the hour uncertain, and only those who prepare in faith shall stand when all else falters.

But in time, spring will return. The trees will rise from their rest, and the fruit of their labor will be revealed in glory for all who have tended a faithful soil.