From Rations to Plenty

Say hello to the biggest carrot we've ever seen.  

Produce Delivery - March 31, 2020

“Your produce arrived today, you can come pick it up at the resort anytime.”

The text came at 10 o’clock, and I could barely contain my excitement.  Opening the sparcely stocked fridge lately had brought on a sort of panic and depression in me.  Wilted bok choy, one quarter of a pumpkin, and half an onion sat glumly alone on the shelf.  Whenever it came time to cook dinner, I felt like I’d been thrust onto the set of Iron Chef, “Create a main course with these two shriveled tomatoes, three potatoes, and a can of corn.”  (Things were certainly not this dire for us quite yet, but I felt the need to use as few of our canned provisions as possible in order to save them for when we ‘really needed them’ and I could feel the food rationing nazi slowly creeping into my psyche.  When preparing each meal, I found myself praying thanksgiving and miraculous multiplication over each veggie I placed on the cutting board like it was my last.  Fishes and loaves, Lord, fishes and loaves.)

But, alas, my produce arrived.  I prayed, “Lord, whatever is there, thank you.  It will be enough.”

As I pulled up to the resort dock, the security guard motioned to the edge, where a ginormous potato sack was leaning up against the railing.  It bulged with the promise of plenty.  Thank you, Lord.  Once again, your provisions for us exceed my greatest imaginings.  The guard helped me heave the sack into our dinghy, and when we got back to the boat, we unpacked our abundance.

Unpacking the bounty

Oohs and aahs rose as each item was pulled out, and like Mary Poppins’ carpetbag, it seemed bottomless.  Quietly, I thanked the packaging person who had thoughtfully set my fragile tomatoes and bananas on top of the heartier produce to prevent bruising.  They obviously had done this once or twice!  Green beans and calamansi were next, then eggplant, cucumbers, cabbage, garlic, carrots, and finally onions, potatoes, and a plump pumpkin at the very bottom.  Separately, two cardboard trays of eggs were stacked and bound up with plastic twine.

Michael's our 'egg tray guy'

Our fresh provisions were replenished.  No more Iron Chef challenges for a while.  Phew.  All was right with the world again... well, aside from that silly pandemic, anyway.

Market Receipt

The following morning, as I happily cut up onions to add to my omelette, I peered out the porthole to see a family paddle past, fishing from their small canoe.  The young boy, around Michael’s age, sat at the bow, rhythmically jerking on a trailing fishing line.  A girl, around three years old, huddled on her mother’s lap while the father propelled the boat from the stern.  I couldn’t help but wonder what they were doing for food in the midst of the shutdown.  Did they have enough?  Are they fishing for today’s meal?  Was that mother plagued with the same anxiety I’d felt when my baskets were all empty?  

Fishing for today's food

I paused.

Now I am that boy carrying the basket of fish and bread.  I am the one to whom God has given plenty, surrounded by the hungry crowd.  I’m the one wondering how it could possibly be enough.  Will I share what I have?  Will I trust that God will multiply it to be far more than they need?  

Fish and loaves, Lord, fish and loaves.  The crowd is hungry.

John 6:27  “But don’t be so concerned about perishable things like food.  Spend your energy seeking the eternal life that the Son of Man can give you.  For God the Father has given Me the seal of His approval.”