firstfruit
Pulling out of the driveway fast one morning this week, up at 5:30 am, baking pumpkin cookies for work, loading up the casserole and cookies after fetching a fruit platter for e’s day at her school. Mom is here, for the upcoming knee surgery, here with her cat, which is good, but all things taken together, I am feeling a pull, like a stretch and I take a deep breath as I see the oranges on the tree and they are oranger than yesterday. So I stop the car without a thought to my 8:00 patient, probably waiting now. I pick the orangest one and it snaps off the stem so easily, I smile, cause I know that means it’s ready. I put it to my hair dryer-warmed face and it feels oh so cool and damp, and I place it on the passenger seat, where I can smell the sweet aroma all the way to work.
The first fruit is special, biblically, the best. It is what we’ve waited for all season, watching the fruit grow and change from green to orange, oh so subtle. And the thrill of tasting it, sampling the season’s firstfruit. Even the bible doesn’t put a space between the words, it’s a word in itself. The drama, the tension mounts as we await the verdict, as we slice, we taste, we pronounce the sweetness. But most of all, this firstfruit is a symbol of what is to come. A symbol of loyal waiting. Holy waiting and holy fruit.
And so as I finish up dinner last night, e rolls into the driveway, and she casually places a strange looking orange—not from our tree—on the cabinet next to me. It rolls a little and plants itself into my view. Thin-skinned. I reach for it, smell it, nice. And she says so nonchalantly, that R gave it to her—the first one off his tree from his backyard.
Tis the season of firstfruits here in South Texas.
“So here I am. I’ve brought the firstfruits of what I’ve grown on this ground you gave me, O God. Then place it in the Presence of God, your God. Prostrate yourselves in the Presence of God, your God. And rejoice! Celebrate all the good things that God, your God, has given you and your family.” (Deuteronomy 26: 11-12, The Message)
And as I read these words about holy fruit, I celebrate all the things I’ve waited for, the sweetest things in my life:
My mother who is still with me, and ever so witty and fun and thoughtful. She is staying with us these holidays during her knee surgery and recovery; I am teaching her how to be taken care of and it’s a tough lesson to teach for someone who cares so naturally for everyone but herself.
My husband who loves me and is still trying to make things better as we age and could grow old and tired of each other; “closer and closer apart” is my biggest fear and I always feel that we are one foot away from that potential, until he says or does something amazingly different and refreshing, and I get new eyes and it all starts again, the dance of togetherness, the struggle of union of two very different, two too much alike souls.
My two daughters, together now in DC, one cooking for the other, the other gleaming knowledge from the one who is oldest. Maybe missing us and home, maybe not, due to the forging of new homelands. Just so grateful that they are mine and they are together and they are in a good place, where they know themselves better than I knew myself at their age, 18 or 23, and they see the world through old souls’ eyes. I do not know why this is so, but they do.
My friend who is there in spirit even when we cannot talk to each other face to face.
My job, with earnings of salary and confidence,
And lastly, I celebrate all the changes in my life, yes, all the crazy things inside and out that send my life into a whirlwind of yearning one day and surrender the next. Somehow, I still believe it’s possible that I can be transformed; that I can live a life that is more aligned with God’s likeness, one that has pure insight into what needs changing, and that I can nurture mine and others’ dreams instead of hindering them. And through all the changes in my life I sense a strong pull back into some safe place where God, my God, knows me.
Perhaps He is my firstfruit.
11:13:55 PM 
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