Christians are Cucumbers

Silver dew drops, each holding a tiny sun, dancing across a sea of green.  Every color of summer peeking from buds yet to see the light of morning.  The mighty oak whispering a quiet 'good morning' to the garden, far below.  The garden.  The place where new things happen every day.  The place where things that were not, suddenly are.  The place I go to listen.

I listen to all the insects receiving the sweetness of life and giving back dusty pollen.  I listen to the funny little frogs, falling with a 'plop' when they miss their tasty morning treat.  I also watch.  I watch the sun slowly rise over the eastern windowsill and shine down in this place of mine.  I watch the shadows run from under every leaf and stem. Now I also watch the plants in this new light.  Each one is not changed from yesterday, not enough to see.  But looking out over the whole garden, it looks just a little bigger and a little greener.  That special miracle called growth seems to happen when no one is looking.  Except one corner of the garden, right near the gate when I came in.  That's where the cucumber vines live.  Reluctantly pulling myself up from the soft, sandy soil, I crawl across the garden pathway to inspect this plant.  I gently lift the dwarfed and yellowed vine, looking for signs of disease or invading bugs.  I am puzzled by the lack of water in the stem even though the leaves are whole and well shaped, if small.  Perhaps the water drains the wrong direction here.  But no, all the other cucumber vines are strong, tall, and healthy and bearing quite well slightly early in the season.  What is the difference?

This vine is growing by itself.  Not near the climbing fence and not near the other vines either.  It is slowly crawling towards the open field.  Its tendrils are wrapped not around the other vines but around some scraggly weeds.  Its flowers are drooped and leathery; its roots poke above the muddy surface.  This vine definitely has no cucumbers on it.

I was guided when I was first planted.  I was watered and fed too, good garden food.  Weeds were kept far, far from my place of growing.  But only I can choose my friends.


Up next week, Evolution vs. God