I come from a family of farmers. My Pappy, (Dad’s father) grew the sweetest pink tomatoes. We picked them and ate them like apples. He grew, to my child’s eyes, the biggest watermelons anywhere. They were long and striped. When you cut them open, the beautiful red inside was delicious. My memories of cows, chickens, pigs, guineas, and mules comfort me even now. That farm was Heaven on earth to me.

My Pappy, as we named him, raised beautiful produce. We lived far out in the countryside. He made regular trips into Charlotte with his green ’51 Ford truck loaded with the best the farm had to offer. He sold produce to the Harris’, the Teeters, and Reid’s. The Harris and Teeter stores had not yet merged into one company.

He only put the finest he had to offer in those baskets. There were no “culls” or “bad” pieces. His reputation was on the line.

Fast forward to my garden. I love planting seeds…watching plants grow…having a beautiful crop. Sometimes, though….there is rotten fruit.

Years ago we had a very wet early summer and then it got hot and dry. I had gone to the garden to pick tomatoes. The vines appeared to have lots of tomatoes that were ripe and ready to pick. But, I would pick a tomato and the bottom would be rotten. I’d pick four or five tomatoes and just get one or two that I could keep.

Finally, I said, “Father, I hate rotten fruit!” Immediately I heard in my heart, “So do I.”

Do you ever wish you just hadn’t mentioned something? I knew I was getting ready to learn of the “rotten fruit” in me. Devastating. But necessary.

You think you have acted with pure motives…you believe you are serving Him and not yourself…Then He gently corrects and chastens and brings you to Himself. He exposes the “rotten” we do not see. Then after He corrects us, He restores us

That “rotten fruit” time in the garden was just one of many. I’m so appreciative of our good and loving God. He knows what we need…and when we need it.