Fruit that Lasts

I hear there's a bumper-crop harvest of durians these days.  I like durians, though I don't go crazy over them. So you won't find me Q-ing just to get hold of the cheapest deal in town for Musang King, Black Thorn, Red Prawn, D24 or Blue whatever...not that I know the difference anyway; I am quite happy and easily satisfied with the kampung variety.  

The other day I saw a very nice shot of a  handsome, shirtless hunk with fabulous six pack abs selling durian posted on social media. Apparently a couple of young college students had opened up their own durian stall aptly named Muscle Durian. So whoever buys from them can get free gawks at both durians and muscle, like getting free smells from Amos Cookies or Rotiboy.  And then of coz there was this famous cosmetic entrepreneur selling his home-grown durians, some at only RM5 per kilo, to quote him "for fun and charity." Apparently  over 1000 kg of durians were sold per day at his temporary 'pop-up' durian stall. 

I know durian-lovers are happy but I think farmers must be the happiest people when they see whatever seed they plant bloom to harvest. Be it fruit, vegetables, or grain.  I am no farmer, nor do I have much of a green-thumb. But I derive much  satisfaction watching the kangkong, spinach and leafy stuff (which I don't even know the names of ) growing  in my back garden. Though  I despair of the relentless repeated attack of insects, snails, squirrels and whatever else that keep 

destroying the plants.  I scold my cat for always chewing on the papaya shoot that's died and resurrected and is now dying again. Yet somehow there's sufficient yield of greens to feed me and family at least 1 dish once a week.  It's not much, but hey, it's home-grown. 

Every morning in my quiet-time as I sit looking out to my front garden, I am happy to see at least some flowers blooming even as the birds and butterflies visit awhile. They all grow despite my bungling attempts at amateur horticulture. For I confess I am just too lazy to keep up the endless rounds of watering, weeding, pruning, and spraying that's required maintenance work for a "proper" garden.  And I absolutely hate the insects; somehow the long pants and gloves I don are no protection to their bites. 

 Every day I look to the  skies, hoping for rain so I don't have to lug out the watering-cans.  Yet despite all my (non) efforts, my little garden-plots do bloom. The orchid that was part of  my second daughter's wedding gifts is still flowering after more than 3 months, even  though I just left it in a corner. The hibiscus is thriving, shooting up high, though its flowers only last a day. Even the plant that's like at least 15 years old  that has never bloomed is now bearing flowers.       
                                                                                                                                                      

Truly as the bible puts it in 1 Corinthians 3:7 So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.  Obviously it's not just plants God's talking about. I am so blessed to see the fruit of the seeds I planted years ago in people's lives. Not that I actually have anything to do with it growing. The point hit home when the other day a young man called out to me as I was sweating it out in my front garden. He had accepted Christ in my sitting-room couch a long time ago as a teenager growing up. At that time I had my doubts as to whether he really really believed or it was out of force of circumstances then. He drifted out of my life soon after that. I heard he went through a difficult period, struggling with drug-addiction and family issues.

Now more than 20 years later, as we sat in the same sitting-room once again, I saw a totally different person. Then he was a bit on the chubby side. Now he is lean, and very fit-looking. Apparently he was training for a marathon. But it was more than a physical thing; his eyes were glowing. And when he spoke, it was with joy and a quiet confidence.  When he said thank you, aunty, I teared up - the prodigal had come home to his Abba Father in heaven. 

I remembered his mom. Way back then, I had visited her with moon-cakes in hand and shared Christ with her. She had (politely) shown me the door , stating she wasn't interested in my God. I can't remember exactly when, but it was quite some time, much much later,  that I bumped into her by the road-side. She excitedly told me she had become a Christian and was going to church, and would I please pray with her for her family. I have been praying everyday for this family since then. 

As I listened to the son now sharing how God had powerfully worked in his life, through all his ups and downs, in the bleak seasons of his life, I knew his mother would have cried many many tears for him. Speaking from personal experience,  that's what all Christian moms and dads do when we see our children wander off here, there and everywhere. Tears and prayers are the only things we can offer up to our Father God, as we trust in the His faithfulness and power to do what we cannot do - make buried seeds that seem dead grow and fruit. 

The best part was hearing this "new" man talk about serving full-time in his church drug rehab centre. Truly this is the kind of healing and transformation that only God can do in a life that used to be so broken and messed-up. (If we are honest with ourselves, aren't all human beings broken and messed-up in some way or another?? Isn't that the reason why the world is in such bad shape??)..  I felt so so blessed to be able to pray for his onward journey with Christ. He gave me star-fruits from a relative's orchard, apologizing that though they looked over-ripe and not so nice, but  actually they were very sweet. Which as it turned out, were indeed very sweet.

That's so like human lives. The tiny seed of God's love that I was given the opportunity to plant into these 2 hearts took such a long time to bear fruit. It had started out looking so hopeless. I never had the chance to tend/follow them up. I could only pray and pray and pray. And God answered; He is indeed the good (and great) gardener, and the fruit He brings forth is always sweet, no matter how bad it looks. So as it should be, to God be the glory. 

Jesus said, "You didn’t choose me. I chose you. I appointed you to go and produce lasting fruit...." - John 15:16