I REMEMBER the gardens my grandparents planted so many years ago. It was a time when Roswell, Georgia, was a very different place. Rows and rows of corn, strawberry plants on one side, and grapevines in the back. One neighbor had beehives nearby.
In September, the harvest began, and I remember my grandmother made huge vats of grape jelly, strawberry preserves, “real” rolls and biscuits, and all that corn. Some was eaten as every-day meals, the rest was placed in a cellar or in one of the “deep freezers” in the basement. So much food!
Neither my parents nor my grandparents were wealthy with money. It just wasn't our lot in life. But we were filthy rich in love of, and for, each other. We helped each other in good times and bad. There is not one thing we would deny the other if they needed it. And we had one more thing that I used to think ALL families had, until I was old enough to know the truth. We had laughter. The sweetest sound humans can make together. The music that binds us tightly here on earth, and lasts eternally.
On Thanksgiving, with the family gathered around, the table was piled high with the best organic goodies I ever had. We all ate until we were stuffed, and there were still so many leftovers. They shared with neighbors, but they never ran out. A lot of hard work went into all that food, but the return—oh, it was so worth it. I didn’t know at that young age that I was watching a living lesson being taught in pretty pictures, delicious flavors, and loving people.
When they gave themselves to hard work and providing for their family, the return was overwhelming. Whatever we give ourselves to, much more returns.
God help me to give myself to better things—things I want to come back to me the way you say they will. The wisdom to know the right things. Courage and heart. To be kind and generous to everyone and fearless when I act. In these times filled with bad actors, sickness and fear, and so much sadness, teach me what I should do and say—how I can best love and serve my neighbor. Place a guard over the words that pass my lips, and let the uniqueness that is “me” be a blessing to others according to your plan.
I hope I never forget one clear lesson from the ground, played out every year before my eyes, “Give, and you will receive. Your gift will return to you in full . . . pressed down, shaken together to make room for more, running over, and poured into your lap.” Lk 6:38
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