We have tomatoes this year.
Past two years, nary a plump fruit on the vine.
They'd make a showing of possible and then wither up all rich and red, fall to the ground in a plop of smushed up soft and no good at all.
But, this year we bring them in, let them rest on the windowsill and the ochre colored places on thinly stretched skin change from soft orange to rich red.
The place on the top where the vine let it go, caved in, the top we slice off, toss aside like big straw hat.
Happy with the good growth, pleasantly surprised by what we've made.
I've been troubled by an idea, an aspiration, a hope brought to light that has yet to yield its bloom.
I'd like to blame it on time, responsibility, aging body and mind, career and/or doubt, inability, not skilled enough or not good enough or as good as…
But, I know it's doubt and discipline and the teeter totter of one more weighty than the other that likely has tangled the roots up unable to grow.
I noticed the bloom, the one left to linger and the one with roots deep down and growing deeper.
The one that was trusted to grow on its own.
Surprisingly new growth.
Perhaps, the soil finally grabbed hold the root and the vine.
Or maybe, the not yet ready decided ready and the roots held on tight while the growth reached out and opened in bloom.
I heard someone talk about cultivation. What before, sounded like work began to sound like trust combined with discipline and with surrender to knowing my part and my part only and
then waiting, all the while longing for the opening of the bloom.
I read about seeds and big faith and I believed a story told by another of a longing fulfilled.
I listened as she told of waiting, of not manipulating, like not breaking up the soil, over watering or moving from sunny spot to sunnier.
I asked myself, am I doing my part, am I quiet in my ambition, will whatever I produce bring respect, cause others to see were it not for grace I'd not have grown so strong, or to be honest, not at all?
The humble and healthy tomatoes line the windowsill and there are more waiting on the vine.
The summer has surprised us.
We planted again, left them to grow, let them be and they grew,
quietly and unexpectedly, they grew.
My ambition, before to be noticed, now waiting, planting, anticipating bloom.
Quiet Confidence, the place I grow.
“and to make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you,”
1 Thessalonians 4:11 NIV