|Green Tomatoes Leftover from Summer|
My daughter and I journey to the basement late yesterday and sit cross-legged before a box of tomatoes wrapped in newspaper. Just a few weeks ago, we gathered all the green tomatoes from our garden before the first frost.
She unwraps the first one.
It's a juicy deep red. It's a brilliant and fragrant red.
We can hardly believe it. My daughter and I unwrap each red treasure. The experience is better than picking them off the vine. Add the element of doubt and surprise, and all of a sudden, we have a celebration on our hands.
|Roasting Tomatoes and Garlic|
I'm so thrilled that those tomatoes never ripened this summer. I'm so happy for that particular disappointment.
When Plan A fails, Plan B often turns out better--more magical--because of the unexpected, against-all-odds sort of outcome. The truth of it all hits me like the cold wind against this window. Plan A has to fail sometimes because God's got a surprise in mind that I'll unwrap when the cold wind blows, in the sorrow of a dark basement. That's when I'll need it most.