Cutting Spinach

I step out into the rain to cut spinach for dinner. The rain splitters and splatters on the deck and in my head I'm singing "This is Home" by Switchfoot. Once I fill the yellow bowl with the green leaves, I patter back up onto the slippery wooden deck and open the door. Inside I carefully wash and dry each leaf at the sink before placing them into the bowl again and setting it in the refrigerator to await dinner preparations.

The growth of spinach, or any leafy green for that matter, is quite wondersome. Because it grows, is harvested, and grows again. It'll grow most places, I've seen it prosper in the clay and in the rich soil, with little rain and with plenty, it seems to always be there. 

Grow, cut, repeat. And every time it grows back just as abundantly as it was the time before.

After a winter like last year, I feel like I've been cut...but I'm ready to grow back just like those wet leaves of spinach. I'm ready to grow.

Little seeds pop up here and there, some flowers die off as others bloom into beauty, each one serving it's purpose--some go unnoticed in the midst of country uninhabited and others are seen everyday at the corner of the street. Flowers, trees, spinach, all reminders of God's growth, God's goodness, and all reminders to smile. Because our God is a growing God who will never end. I'll grow, flourish, be harvested, cut back, trampled, but then I'll sprout up again. And if not in this world, then at least I know that I will be in Heaven where I will see the tree of Life and the Father of Life and live and grow forevermore.

Growing, always growing. Everyone's growing--some are simply seeds that don't seem all that active. But they are, they're there and someday they'll surprise the planter with a green stem. They'll remain in the sun and grow more and more. 

God is growing you. Yes. Like spinach we sprout up, we might be cut back, but it's for a purpose (in my case, dinner) but it will grow back. You will grow back.