Strawberry season has come and nearly gone. We’re grateful to be in a sweet spot of the country for these delicious treats, and we’re humbly (HUMBLY) attempting to grow some ourselves. As in, we rescued a few dying plants from the clearance rack at Lowe’s, in hopes that they’ll bounce back next season. So far, they’ve perked up and produced exactly two berries. Regardless of their success, though, you can find us next year at the U-pick patch down the road from our house. These strawberry fields represent a place where toil and trust come together, and sometimes I just need to be in it to be reminded of it again.
I’m not a stranger to hard work, but I’m no farmer. These folks know the art of work. There are so many details and timetables that go into farming, it almost blows my mind. It’s literally a full time job to keep up with the land and the weather and the what comes next. So they commit to it, full time, night and day. They get little rest, and almost no vacation. And yet, at the end of each day, they still have to trust in something other than themselves. They’ve done all that they can do to produce good fruit, but at some point it leaves their control. What a beautiful, faithful work.
Lord, let me live in this balance. Hands on, hands off. Hands on, hands off. Toil, trust. Toil trust.