Watermelon ripening on the vine in my garden
Who would have thought that such a beautiful watermelon would turn out the way it did? A couple of months earlier, I had cleared most of the watermelon and cantaloupe vines from my garden. I needed to make room for my precious achara (elephant grass), the one I had practically crossed seven forests, seven lands, and seven rivers to obtain! The vines were also beginning to show signs of bug infestation, so it seemed like the right time to let them go.
There was, however, one watermelon plant growing separately
from the others. Its vine looked healthy and strong, so I decided to leave it
alone and see what it could do. It produced a few watermelons, but the Oklahoma
heat (or perhaps something else) dried up all but one. That final watermelon
held on. My resilient one. I watched it grow bigger and bigger, and every time
I saw it sitting there looking beautiful, my hopes rose a little more.
Finally, I harvested it.
My baby (sorry, my grown young man) and I were smiling like two little children
whose mother had finally bought the long-awaited toy they couldn’t wait to
unwrap. I washed the watermelon, dried it, set it on the counter, and performed
my very serious inspection. I tapped it with the blunt side of the knife and
played a few drum sounds. Everything looked promising.
Then I placed the knife
through the center and cut it open. Just like that, our excitement vanished.
The inside was not what we had anticipated. My beautiful watermelon was no
good. I had apparently allowed it to remain on the vine too long. Some parts had
begun to deteriorate, and fully mature seeds were staring back at us. We were
both so disappointed.
But after looking at it
for a moment, I could not help searching for the bright side. Wait a minute. I
have seeds! I may not have received the sweet fruit I hoped to enjoy this year,
but I now have seeds for next year. I also learned another lesson about
recognizing when a watermelon is ready to harvest. The outcome was
disappointing, but the season had not left me empty-handed.
Life can be like that.
We patiently nurture something, watch it grow, and become excited about the
outcome we imagine. Then the moment finally arrives, and what we discover is
not what we expected. Disappointment can make us focus so much on what we lost
that we overlook what we gained: wisdom, experience, or a small beginning we
can still carry forward.
That watermelon did not give me the fruit I wanted, but
inside the disappointment was the possibility of another harvest. It reminded
me of the promise in Genesis 8:22 that seedtime and harvest will continue. So I
am saving the seeds. Next year, I will plant again with a little more
knowledge, a little more experience, and, hopefully, enough wisdom to harvest
on time!
Whatever that didn’t turn out the way you hoped this
season, do not be too quick to call it a waste. Look again. There may still be
a lesson, some growth, or something worth saving. Sometimes what looks like a
failed harvest is carrying seeds for another season.
Save the seeds. Learn the lesson. And when the season comes, plant again.
Chidi - counselor, gardener, storyteller, and lifelong student of the lessons hidden in ordinary moments.
Garden & Reflections offers a glimpse into the experiences
and everyday lessons that shape me beyond the therapy room. These personal
reflections are shared thoughtfully while honoring the professional boundaries
of the counseling relationship.