The Curious Case of the Zombie Tomatoes

the picture just doesn't do them justice

   The idea was to make a basic tomato/cilantro salad; I don't do basic. To vamp up the activity, a variety of herbs and tomatoes was arranged on the cutting board peaking interest and sparking curiosity (yes!). Students arrived, scattering to the various stations to prepare.. but.. you never know what will happen when kids get in the kitchen.

    We introduce each variety of tomato: the beefsteak, the Roma, several color varieties of cherry and grape tomatoes. One particular tomato gets everyone's attention: the grape purple stripey. Purchased by Mr. Go, this tomato was an accidental arrival- or what is commonly known as "Mr. Go went shopping and this is what happened". Dark purple skin sports deep green stripes; when sliced, the inner seed gel is a vibrant almost neon green.
     From here the madness began with a fascinated proclamation: a zombie tomato! There were ooh's and ah's mixed with giggles and horror- they braved touching it and begged to taste it. Who knew you could get kids to eat tomatoes by completely grossing them out with zombie-like craziness?
     Eventually the herbs were touched, sniffed, and tasted. Eventually the actual salad was made, tasted and talked about. .. but.. the thing that made the biggest impression was the curious case of the zombie tomatoes!

A Testimony Without Words

   "It's a great thing you are doing there," a friend said to me. "Yes, but it isn't a ministry- it's a job," was my reply. Our conversation continued with her challenge to me- look for the ministry in the job. Though I politely smiled, there was doubt in my mind I would find it, after all, God isn't allowed in schools.
    As is my daily routine, prayers were lifted during my long drive- a 7:15 garden group would be waiting for me. The strong aroma of onion sets kept distracting me as I tried to focus on the road and my conversation. Could there be a ministry in the job? Doubtful, I unloaded garden tools and waited for the students to arrive.
    Gathered there in the drizzle, four young gardeners and I huddled over a pile of seedlings to separate them in preparation for planting. One per hole, hand width apart, single file along the edge of each bed- we planted dozens of onions for 'salsa gardens'. Kneeling elbow to elbow with a sweet little red head a conversation began with - I thought of you at church yesterday.
    There, frozen in a moment of time, I looked into her clear blue eyes in wonder of her comment waiting to hear more. In Sunday school we talked about how God made everything. Have you ever had a moment where the whole world disappeared and time stood still? She and I were all I could see as she continued- I told them I knew He made the broccoli and the peas we are growing here- He gave those seeds what they need to grow. He made the herbs and all the food we cook every day. A smile was all I could muster; amazement filled my heart.
     The truth is: we never know the impact our presence, our character has on another. I will never know how this inner connection works; how others are able to 'sense' God in us, but I will be forever touched and humbled by this simple encounter in the garden.