Lettuce Pray

It’s been a month since the tragic pea-pod massacre.

Guess what? The little-garden-that-couldn’t, actually can. Our little garden is OVERFLOWING with lettuce. Plus, in what appears to be a Lazarus-style garden miracle, even the peas have resurrected. They’re growing again, clinging to the trellis and reaching higher each day. Last night, my son actually spied a baby pea on the vines. Amazingly, we might just harvest some peas after all!


Once again this wise plot of earth taught me a life lesson—the way a situation appears is not always the way it will be. How often have I looked at the evidence around and logically concluded a particular outcome. The thing is nothing remains as it is. Stormy days give way to clear skies. Gathering clouds block the sun. Seasons change.

You know why those peas sprouted again even though they looked like goners? Under the surface, beyond my seeing, their roots remained intact. That’s all they needed to break forth from the soil and become vibrant, fruit-bearing plants.

Life can cut us down, beat us up and turn us inside out. Our circumstances may say, “It’s over! There’s nothing left here.” We may lose heart. But when we set our roots in the life-giving soil of Jesus, we anchor our souls. In doing so, we can be assured we will once again bear fruit.

“Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.” (John 15:4)

P.S. If you're in the neighborhood, stop by for some lettuce!
P.P.S. Like the title? It's another groaner from my clever hubby.