Sunday I harvested.Plucking fat, juicy Nanking Cherries from the branches. Soaking in the sun. Thankful.
Remembering another time I was overcome with thankfulness. Almost two years ago to the day.
My hands repeated the same motions, pulling ripe cherries, dropping them in a bucket, the only difference; a beautiful 12 year old girl did the same beside me.We both waited.
We both knew.It was really bad news we were waiting for.
We’d already heard the sirens; we’d already got the call about the red helicopter rushing her mother to the city.We hoped, but we knew and so we plucked cherry after cherry and we waited.
I struggled for words. I wanted more than anything to tell her that bad things happen, but God still loves. I wanted her to know that God isn’t the creator of our tragedies. I knew in the coming days people would tell her it was meant to be. I knew they'd mean well, but I also knew they'd be wrong. I wanted to set her straight. I wanted her to know that Jesus would weep with her and that He never, ever would intentionally hurt her. I hadn’t yet got around to these bigger lessons. I thought I had time. I was starting to panic – worried maybe I had failed her.I’d missed the boat and now I badly wanted to quickly cram in the information. How?
So I pondered, prayed, plucked cherries.We waited.
We knew.Then she spoke.
My girl.She told me she would be okay.
She assured me.She said it was okay because she had just learned at camp that God doesn’t make bad things happen. This is a bad world and sometimes bad things happen. She told me she knew God loved her and that He would help her through this. She told me they’d discussed it a lot and she knew she’d be okay.
Two years later I harvested by myself because she was at a sleepover. I remember. I remember how He provides. He’s got it all covered. I’m in the palm of His hand. You’re in the palm of His hand.I’m overcome by His goodness, His love.