Good Fruit

Today was an Ann of Green Gables day at the fruit and vegetable farm down the road.  A day in which I imagine in early June on Prince Edward island, where the fields cast that perfect hue of  green and the wind blows gently enough to bring about a kind breeze.  The branches of the cherry trees heavily laden with fruit, swayed back and forth with the wind. Good fruit. Fruit not harmed by the desolation and emptiness of winter.  A healthy tree.

Plentiful and pure, an abundant harvest of seasonally ripe, red fruit. So as I pluck the succulent crop from its boughs, I drift in thought about my fruit. Most days, at best, my fruit wouldn’t fill a basket. Not a barren tree, just one needing frequent seasons of pruning and purging in order to produce fruitfulness for the glory of the one, true, Sovereign Gardener.

My daughters and I continue to pull from the fruitful branches, echoes of nearby harvesters who also clamor for such impeccable fruit, bring to mind, “blossom and put forth shoots and fill the whole world with fruit” but without the constant, daily abiding in Him, I become diseased; weak, unable to do the job in which I was placed on this Earth to do—bear fruit for His glory.

“For apart from me you can do nothing,” just as the cherry trees rely on the keeper of the orchard to protect, to feed, to prune—I am strengthened by His care.

Grafted, propagated, connected, to Christ so that I may bear fruit for the harvest. Life truly begins in the garden as we amble to Genesis 2:8 and plow our way to John 19:41.  Remain in the care of the Gardener.

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