The Gospel According to Red Onions

One of the things I love most about gardening is that it keeps a person humble.

Just when you think you've figured something out, the garden gently reminds you that you're not nearly as in charge as you imagined.

Take red onions, for example.

Last year, I could not grow a red onion to save my life. I planted them faithfully, watered them carefully, encouraged them shamelessly, and harvested... disappointment. Tiny bulbs. Stunted growth. The gardening equivalent of a polite shrug while the yellow onions grew in abundance.

This year?

The red onions have decided this is their moment.

I honestly didn't think any of my onions had produced much at all. The bulbs aren't nearly as bulbous as I had hoped, but when harvest time came, I discovered an abundance of red onions waiting beneath the soil. I was genuinely surprised by the bounty.

The tomatoes are finally beginning to roll in too, in all their glorious shades of red, orange, and yellow. Every morning seems to bring another handful ready for the kitchen counter.

And then there is the basil. Oh, the basil.

There is always that one plant in the garden that grows with such enthusiasm that it becomes less of a crop and more of a management issue. This year, that honor belongs to the basil.

I've made pesto. I've freeze-dried it. I've tucked it into salads and sandwiches.

The basil remains unconcerned by my efforts. It simply continues growing.

Gardening has a way of teaching lessons that have very little to do with vegetables.

Some seasons are seasons of abundance.

Some seasons are seasons of waiting.

Sometimes the thing that refuses to grow despite your best efforts suddenly decides to flourish the following year, and sometimes the thing you expected to thrive struggles for reasons you'll never quite understand.

The best gardeners I know seem to share one quality above all else: they keep planting anyway.

Maybe that is because the garden quietly reminds us of something Scripture has been teaching all along. We plant the seed and water it, but God gives the growth.

Some seasons are for sowing.

Some are for tending.

And sometimes, if we are patient enough, we are invited to stand back in wonder and watch God bring abundance from places that looked barren just a year before.

The red onions have become my reminder that God is often working beneath the surface long before we see the evidence above the soil.

Faithfulness comes first.

Harvest comes later.

So this week I am grateful for overflowing baskets, dirt beneath my fingernails, and the simple joy of carrying pieces of dinner in from the backyard.

And I am especially grateful for the red onions, who waited until this year to become the stars of the show, humble me just a little, and teach me a lesson or two along the way.

"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. - Galatians 6:9