I was having a “sunset moment” one Sunday night, a discouraged feeling I get sometimes after a long week at work.
Standing on my patio, gazing up at the sky as the sun went down, I wondered if my being here made any difference at all. God had so much to worry about. How could he find time for me?
Later I heard an odd knocking on my door. A neighbor I’d nodded to in passing stood there, holding something carefully. “I had to knock with my elbow,” she said. “Have some cherry tomatoes? I have plenty to share.”
“Thank you!” Surprised, I opened my hands to receive the bounty: six golf-ball-sized red pearls. “How big a crop did you have?”
“I got twelve.”
“Twelve?” I said. “Twelve plants?”
“Twelve tomatoes.”
“You can’t give me half your crop! Come inside, please.
We sat in my kitchen. She said softly, “After my husband passed away, I began to wonder if God cared about me. To keep myself busy, I started some tomato plants on the patio. Bugs got about a dozen and I killed a few more by overwatering them…Then I realized it didn’t matter if I had only one plant left. I tended that plant and watered it carefully. It dawned on me then that no matter how small and alone I felt, God was always there, nurturing me.”
My jaw must’ve dropped, for my neighbor said, “I know that sounds strange…but I just wanted you to have them. A gift from me.”
Thank you, God, for the times you make yourself known in my loneliness and for the gift of your care.
