June, 2017
I am stealing this story.
But the haunting words of another have reached deep into my soul and pricked my heart. If I could remember who shared her dream, I would give her credit…and thanks.
My heart has been weighed down of late. And according to the standards of the world, I have no good reason to lament. I have reached the pinnacle, the goal of every human. I have enough. Home, food, security, family…more than enough…I have it all.
Television commercials encourage young people. You can have it all. Work hard, get ahead, invest wisely…and one day you will be able to retire…because you have it all.
Television commercials celebrate seniors. Once struggling workers, they now have the freedom to ride bikes through French villages, play endless rounds of golf and break world records…jumping out of airplanes, sky diving at 101 years of age. 
My activity of choice takes me down to the dirt, rich moist soil, the source of flowers and peppers and tomatoes and beans. Once a chore required to put food on the table, gardening is now a luxury. It is the excuse for slowing down, noticing small things and expanding the soul under God’s canopy. It is just the quiet space of the world where haunting words can find me.
I recall the story, the woman with a dream. In her sleep she was carried up to heaven. Standing before the mighty throne, she felt the gaze of the Father rest on her. Love enfolded her. Then in a heavenly mirror she saw what He saw. Leaves. Her humanity expressed as a lush green tree, full and bright with leaves. A tree that any human would love to sit under, would pay to enjoy its cool shade on a summer day. But to the woman, a sharp pain pierced her heart. Leaves. All leaves. Where is the fruit?
So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, ‘For three years now I’ve been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven’t found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?’ [Luke 13:7]
The Loving Gaze did not accuse. It was the woman’s charge. She had wanted to be before His throne with a glorious offering. And all she had were leaves. No fruit.
In retirement, we are blessed with choices. No longer constrained with the need to work ten-hour days at the office, “the world is our oyster.”
Each morning an unlimited number of choices lay at my feet. Tilling the soil, I can plant anything. I dream of my offering, the basket I want to carry home with me. Haunted by the dream of another, I stare into the basket, down deep into the bushel basket and ask myself, “Where is the fruit?”
No, I am not haunted by an accusation. Love does not accuse. It invites. It inspires. It endures.
Rather, I am haunted by a desire to use every gift I’ve been given to return to my Father with fruit…not out of duty…but in tremendous gratitude…and with inexpressible love.
Awake, my soul!
Awake, O harp and lyre!
I will awake the dawn.
I will give thanks to you, O Lord, among the peoples;
I will sing praises to you among the nations.
For your steadfast love is as high as the heavens;
your faithfulness extends to the clouds. [Psa 57:8-10]
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Meditations: In the Garden
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