Last Saturday started out like any other. We had a list of things to do in the morning, but the afternoon was free to simply do whatever suited our fancy. My husband, Chris, saw a sign on his way home from work Friday that said “Tomatoes. $5 bushel. You pick.” That was like gold to Chris for many reasons: (1) tomatoes – the tomato season is practically over, and we never got to make the salsa we planned to do this year, (2) $5 for a bushel is almost unheard of, and he loves a bargain, and (3) the idea of picking his own tomatoes was almost too much for him to bear – he loves hard work, especially the kind that results in a great reward! So, I offered to ride along on this mini-adventure. Not to mention the fact – the whole salsa idea came from me when I announced one day that I wasn’t going to eat anymore of that yucky store bought salsa.
So, off we went. We traveled just a few miles down the road and followed the “you pick tomotoes” signs that he first spotted on Friday. After awhile, however, the signs ran out. That didn’t stop my husband. He kept driving along the “no trespassing” private roads look for that glorious tomato farm. By this time, I’m beginning to think we really ought to abandon the entire operation. Not Chris. He was full steam ahead. Finally – in our line of sight, we came across the remains of a tomato field. But…where was the person to take our $5? Were we perhaps at the wrong farm? The posted, no trespassing, keep off signs were everywhere. I begged, “Please honey…I don’t have a good feeling about this. I don’t need salsa that badly.” I simply wanted this mission aborted and soon!
Then…all of sudden…what did we see? People! Yes, a small group of workers were out in the middle of this tomato field picking up sticks (or something that looked like sticks). Chris decided he would get out of the truck and go see if he could find out how to get some tomatoes. Oh my goodness. I was mortified. After asking him to lock me in the truck, as I was feeling very unsafe, he trotted off. It seemed like he was gone forever, and the angle in which we were parked didn’t allow me to see him very well. I knew it…I just knew this was not a good idea. Suddenly, I heard the tap, tap, tap of fingers on the window. He was back and waiting on me to unlock the door for him. Excitedly, he couldn’t wait to tell me the news. “They said I can have all I can pick if I can just find something to put them in.” Seriously? I couldn’t believe. Then, my doubts set in. “Are you sure that’s okay? Where do we pay for them?” It was then I knew that I must not have totally understood what he was saying, so he told me in a different way. “The tomatoes are almost gone, but they said I can take whatever I can pick. No charge.” No charge? Did I hear that correctly? WOW! This is a huge blessing! Oh I started to smell salsa in the air already! But wait…
Who was this woman that I was turning into? Moments before, doubt was in charge…leading me into that vicious cycle of negative thinking that I frequent so often. The type of thinking that keeps me from doing half the things that I really want to do, because I’m constantly questioning myself. But…not Chris. Because, he was willing to step into the unknown a little bit and take a little risk, we were blessed with a bag full of beautiful tomatoes that probably would have cost $40-50 in the grocery store.
As I was sitting there waiting on him to return to the truck with the newly picked tomatoes, God pricked my spirit, and I instantly new this was a blog in the making. He, in His very gentle way, reminded me that this was just a small example of what I do constantly. He’s ready to bless me and pour out favor upon me, but I have to be willing to step outside of my comfort zone and take a few risks. I have to be willing to possibly even suffer a little embarrassment along the way. If I’m ever going to live in full victory, with God at the head of everything, then a little discomfort and a lot of trust is going to be required. How about you? Are you willing to take a risk that might lead to a bigger blessing than you can imagine?
Each time I taste that yummy salsa now, I remember our Great Tomato Escapade. More importantly, I remember the lesson God taught me that day, and I am learning to welcome the risks…and the blessings!