Cucumber Plants

I lightly scrape the soft ground with the hoe, pulling up weeds off the surface without disturbing the roots of the corn. It's about two feet high now, and the rains are coming every three days or so. Between rains, I take the hoe and till around the corn stalks to keep the weeds down. I mound up the extra dirt around the stalks to support them as they grow taller, so that the wind doesn't blow them over. 

When I garden, I think. It's therapeutic. I think about my teammate sharing at the team meeting this morning that she will be leaving in September. It was a hard announcement to make, one that came with tears, but also with support and words of encouragement as we all realize that she is taking the next step in her walk with God. 

It all makes me think as I work the hoe and the soil. It makes me wonder what's next for me. Recently, I find myself thinking a lot about what's next, and it's not just because of my roommate's departure. I've always seen my life as a series of stepping stones, one event leading to the next, one season of life preparing me for what is to come. Even being here in Africa feels like a stepping stone to what's next, but what is the next thing exactly? And how will I know it? On one hand, I look at how well ministry is going and how I am not essentially needed, and I feel like my work here could be done and that God could be preparing my heart to leave. Then I look at the cucumber plants in my garden, which were so small just a few weeks ago. They are starting to bloom now, and little tiny cucumbers will start producing soon. "Do not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time you will reap a harvest if you do not give up." (Galatians 6.9)

I keep thinking as I feel the soft dirt between my fingers and scrape it out from underneath my nails. Is God's plan for us a fixed path or does he give us the freedom to choose? 

Later that afternoon, Daniel and his wife Valerie come to visit with their fifteen-month old baby tied to Valerie's back. The first thing they want to do is see the garden, and they help me determine what is a weed and what is a baby tomato plant because I still can't tell the difference. They tell me I should plant a papaya tree because it grows quickly and will produce in the next three years, and I silently wonder if I will even be here to see it. "In just a few years, this garden will produce ten times as much fruit!" Daniel said, and I wonder if he is speaking prophecy over me. 

We sit on the front porch and drink tea while Emily swings with Gabrielle in the hammock. We talk about ministry and the future, making plans for a summer Bible study for teen girls and a village medical ministry. It feels good to dream about the future, but it hurts a little too because everything seems a little uncertain right now. 

When dusk begins to settle in, Emily and I take a moto ride up to the hill to watch the sunset, but instead we run into some mud on the path and slip until we both end up on the ground laughing, completely muddying our clothes and the moto. 

We go to bed laughing about our first moto accident in the books. "It's been a good day today," she says. I'm thankful for days like today - days to enjoy the present moment while still dreaming about the future. I lay in bed staring out the window and listening to the crickets in the garden and my mind goes back there where I'm pulling weeds and thinking about what's next. I still wonder, but I have peace about the journey ahead, knowing that wherever God leads, it will be good. For now, I am here, watching the cucumbers flower and grow and waiting for him to take me to the next stepping stone.