Sometimes — whether we are in awful, lonely places, or in average or even spectacular ones — we encounter some insistent reminder that we aren’t alone, that beauty is here, that miracles do happen. I call these “love notes from Jesus” and here’s the one I got this morning — ripe kiwis hanging from my deck.
No. For reals. Quite a few years ago, a magazine promised that if I planted both a male and female vine, I would end up with a crop of small, fuzzless kiwi fruits. I thought they lied because I did what they said but I never saw any fruit.
That’s right: you can grow KIWIS in IDAHO. I don’t know how that fact can mean anything other than that I am wildly loved by a generous God who can turn our barren deserts into tropical gardens.