Dad harvested his first three bushels from the apple orchard. Down below the shed in our sloped field, apples still ripen on the three-year-old trees, slim and smooth sided and hung heavy with fruit. Dad planted those trees during the time when he first seriously considered selling the milk cows. By the time the two-year-old and one-year-old and one-summer-old trees begin to bear, he will have an abundance.
I wrote about his apple orchard at the close of Anything But Simple. That orchard symbolizes to me hope and new beginnings, a transition from what was to what will be, and the fruits of a life well lived.
Recently, my little sister gave birth to her third child.
And my good friend to her second. In the picture below, she still waits.
Around me in so many places, I see fruits.
Ivan canned up these peaches in preparation for our marriage.
He also froze a big batch of strawberries and blueberries and canned 15 quarts of pears.
It makes me insanely proud. I want to tell everyone: “My husband (almost, anyway) cans fruit.” (As you can see, I found a way to work it into a blog post.)
Not to be outdone, I asked Dad for some of his apples to make filling and sauce.
I’ve never considered myself a preserver of food. I grouped that art with quilt making and crocheting and growing big gardens and all the other things I never wanted to do. Ivan, however, much prefers home-grown and home-canned foods to store-bought, so preserve it we shall. We have a deal: everything from haymaking to canning we do as a team. And as a team player, I feel I can handle canning just fine.
The Bible talks in numerous place about giving God the earliest and best of our crops and our efforts. First fruits, it calls them. “Honor the LORD with thy substance, and with the firstfruits of all thine increase,” an ancient proverb tells us. “So shall thy barns be filled with plenty, and thy presses shall burst out with new wine.”
I used to have an index card reminder propped against the lamp beside my bed. Give God your first time, it said. The card hasn’t been there for a long time, though. For weeks, I’ve checked my phone first, before even saying, “Hello.”
I once had a close friend who was an old lady. She was lonely, and for months of my life, I felt responsible to visit her and cheer her up. When she died, I had a terrible dream. In the dream, she waited for me—old and lonely and in the nursing home—but I never came. When I visited her, months later, she just looked at me. No words of reproach, but I knew that she wondered. She was lonely, and she’d been waiting all that time. Soon now, she would die.
I feel as if I’ve been doing to the Friend who’s been there for me since I was a child. For a long time now, he’s been waiting for me to come—but I rarely show up. When I do, I am hurried and selfish and barely notice him at all. A perfunctory, “Thank you,” and “Please give me…” are about all our conversations contain. He seldom has time to reply before I rush off again.
I wish this would change. I know wishes aren’t apples to pluck from a tree—they take work and decision. But truthfully, being friends with God is like long-distance dating Ivan without phone calls or pictures or visits to bring him close. Building a relationship with someone you’ve never even seen feels HARD to make happen sometimes.
I’ve been reading Dad and Mom’s letters, written over a four year span, starting when Mom was fifteen and ending just before their wedding, when she was nineteen. I can see the roots of the people they are now hidden in those letters. Young and insecure in many ways, yes. But so PURE and GOOD and SINCERE. I see the start of the deep dependence on God I watched them model all through my growing up years. It makes me ashamed of my own doubting and self-centered heart.
I want that. To cultivate the seed that has sprouted within me, to open my heart to the rain of the Spirit and watch the full formed tree—planted beside the rivers of water and giving his fruit in his season—take root. As they did, to give the first fruits of my life and my marriage to God.
Beautiful! Stirs a desire inside of me to do better! Thank you…
Luci, you have been fruitful all your life, Now you have a chance to multiply the fruits of your labors. With a man in the kitchen, you’ll have opportunity to write, and whatever else you are called to do.
Not surprisingly, food is a motif in my memoir. Planting, harvesting, canning, and freezing all a part of my “farm” family experience. I hope you have a chance to read and review my book soon. Thank you!
Teamwork definitely multiplies my efforts. Ivan has been a huge help to me with writing already. I am enjoying your memoir and hope to review it soon. :)
Love this post! It goes well with a message my mom, sister, and some of our friends were listening to just yesterday … that’s the way God often works. :) Also my family has apple trees, so there’s a familiarity there with harvesting the fruit (and also canning;).
You are so bless!!
Your heritage is rich, so rich!!
Way to go young lady!!
Love in Christ.
Thank you!
I liked this post. Enjoy the journey!
I am jealous. When I got married, I did all the canning all by myself. As well as all the food preparation and dish washing and grocery shopping and laundry and housecleaning. I often think that marriage was an opposite experience for me then for my husband. He gained a housekeeper and general slave, I became one. Okay, okay, I know it’s wicked to compare husbands, but I do want you to know that yours is one in a thousand in the Mennonite world. And even though I am insanely jealous, I am glad you wrote this, because now I feel okay about you getting married. Even though I’ve never met you, I was feeling a little sad that you are giving up all the other possibilities to get married and wash dishes all day. If you and your husband are truly going to do things together, and not function in opposite worlds like most traditional Mennonites do, then I feel happy for you to be getting married. Not that it matters what I think about it, but still…
Hi Anonymous, it’s really good to hear from you and hear your honesty. I was always a little leery of marriage because I didn’t want to get trapped in a gender box I felt would be stifling. In my home and experience, I have felt so much freedom to think for myself and to make my own choices…I didn’t ever want to lose that. Ivan told me the first time we met, while I was still considering dating, that he didn’t want a wife to boss around; he wanted a relationship that was more like president and vice-president. I liked that. I still like that. I feel like I am gaining not just a husband, but an enabler, supporter, and teammate…someone who won’t re-route my life but instead help me to succeed and thrive as a writer.
That being said, we are still learning the whole teamwork thing. Right now it feels like of course we’ll get it perfect, but of course, that’s not reality. And even though we want our attitude and some of our actions to always be “together,” Ivan will still be doing the bulk of the farm work and I will be doing the bulk of the housework. I have a feeling you’re talking about more than just splitting the workload, though…maybe there is an emotional support or connection that you are missing. If so, that’s something to talk about…maybe with your husband? I don’t know your situation or relationship, so I can’t just throw advice out into the ecosystem, but I do think your feelings are valid and that it is possible to work through to a relationship that feels more enabling and empowering to you and to your husband both. I don’t know how to tell you to get there! But I think prayer is key. Also openness. And if you want to have a longer discussion with a random writer you’ve never met, please feel free to contact me through the email address in the contact tab on this blog.
Also, thank you for your happiness and care for me. That is precious.