“The Year of Little Harvest”

           We have a garden growing in Albuquerque. Facing a number of difficulties in previous years when we lived north of here, I wasn’t expecting too much. After all, desert life isn’t known for its flourishing vegetable gardens. Presently however, we live in a section of the town known as the “North Valley,” an agricultural area situated near the Rio Grande. There are many horse farms, several fields of hay and lavender, a couple of wineries, and this summer, a garden growing in my back yard that far exceeded my expectations. There are tomato plants taller than I am and the leaves on the zucchini plants are as big as the tobacco leaves I remember from my grandfather’s farm in eastern North Carolina. Neither my husband nor I added any fertilizer. We didn’t do anything special other than turn the soil and build a little rabbit fence around the plants. We water daily, pull weeds as needed, but the plants have gone crazy and overrun the plot, stretching across the fences. It should come as no surprise therefore, that every day for the last month I have walked around our little garden expecting to find an amazing harvest. And here’s the thing, there hasn’t been much of one.

           Those tall and full tomato plants only have a few tomatoes growing. Those oversized zucchini leaves with lots of blooms and thick stems actually bear only a few zucchini. And now that I’ve gotten beyond my frustration and disappointment, I’ve found myself saying something the folks in my profession like to say a lot. “That’ll preach.”

           A church I heard about wanted to raise three million dollars for a renovation project. They paid an architect to design their dream building which included an open and appealing narthex where visitors and members could relax and mingle before going into the newly furnished and technologically enhanced sanctuary. There would be new education facilities, a tiered music room, a larger and updated kitchen, roomy offices, and all kinds of architectural extras and landscaping possibilities to create a beautiful and modern church building and campus.

        The only thing is that there is no way this church can raise three million dollars. A few years ago there was a split and half of the congregation left and they have never completely rebounded from the loss. Within the congregation there remain lots of unresolved issues, a good deal of tension, not a lot of support for the pastor, and no real mission outside of themselves. Still, several members think a newly renovated building, good sound and light systems, a big kitchen, and new furniture is the answer.

       I don’t fault the church for wanting the change. At least members recognize there are problems to address. At least they are paying attention and making some attempt to improve their situation. At least they haven’t lost hope. And yet, I have to wonder, if they do manage to raise the money and build the “dream church” they are hoping for, if it will ever really amount to anything, if there will ever be much of a “harvest” or any growth in the community to show or share.

       But then again, what do I know? I’m still taking pictures of my beautiful tomato plants and sending them home to my family of farmers and gardeners in North Carolina. Can you believe how big they’ve grown? I write, in hopes that no one writes back asking to see a picture of an actual tomato.

You are the light of the world. 

Yours,

Lynne