Surprise

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     Just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, God comes up with something unexpected… simply because he wants to.

     My bride and I thought the cherry tree was done for. We didn’t get a crop this year; most of the fruit fell to the ground while it was still green. And despite the “scare tape,” the birds managed to pick off most of what did ripen. And then the leaves fell off – about two months ago. We plan to give the tree a righteous pruning come winter, and hope for better results in ’25.

     We don’t need the cherry crop: it is neither crucial income nor sustenance. When Kay loads those tart cherries into a pie crust, the outcome is wonderful, for sure – put on an extra pot of coffee, we’re going to be here a while – but still, a luxury, not a necessity. I stopped grieving over the cherries and moved on to other issues a while back. Leave weeping to the willows.  

     One thing that has stuck with me, though, is the drought we’ve been in. Money crops are suffering; farmers and their families will suffer too. I was on the back porch early Wednesday morning, asking Jesus why we’re having this exceptionally dry weather. He upholds the universe by the word of his power (see Hebrews 1:3); a couple inches of rain wouldn’t be too much to ask.

     While I was praying, movement caught my eye toward the north end of the yard: a hummingbird was flitting around the cherry tree. Stupid bird, you’re supposed to be headed south soon, and here you are trying to draw nectar from a tree that has none. In a moment, another hummingbird came along. They must really be desperate. I went on praying, and gave the birds up to failed instincts.

     But the birds kept at it. The movement, now somewhat of a nuisance, kept drawing my attention. On one glance I finally spotted a few patches of green where green hadn’t been, and a few flecks of white that were out of place. The cherry tree was blooming. As Moses said, “I will turn aside to see this great sight” (Genesis 3:3), and I went for a closer look. The tree had a few dozen waxy, June-fresh leaves and maybe fifteen to twenty blossoms, all in one patch. Not enough for a cherry crop, but enough to get a couple hummingbirds started on a long migration.

     Your steadfast love, O Lord, extends to the heavens,

    your faithfulness to the clouds.
    Your righteousness is like the mountains of God;
    your judgments are like the great deep;
    man and beast you save, O Lord.

    How precious is your steadfast love, O God!
    The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of your wings.
    They feast on the abundance of your house,
    and you give them drink from the river of your delights.
    For with you is the fountain of life;
    in your light do we see light (Psalm 36:5-9)

     I don’t generally think of hummingbirds as “beasts,” but they and “the children of mankind” share a common reality: God saves; the Lord pours out his steadfast love; he gives them, all of them, drink from the river of his delights.

     Meteorologically, we are in a dry season. But the river of delights flows always. The fountain of life springs fresh. The steadfast love of our Father encompasses the heavens and the deeps and the mountains and the hummingbirds.

 Surprise!

 

 Grace and Peace (and water for your souls),

 

John