Have you ever watched a tomato grow?
It's pretty fascinating.
Russ and I first bought three tomato plants from the farmer's market back in May. There were no blooms, no tomatoes. Hope of a single tomato was yet to be seen.
But ever so slowly, the yellow blooms appeared. Maybe it was the sunlight, the water, more soil, the transferring of plants to larger pots, placing the stakes. Perhaps we were doing something right!
I became hopeful. But soon the small yellow flowers began to wither. They appeared as though they had died so quickly. I almost wanted to prick them off the little branch, but since I barely knew a thing about plants, I had the inkling to let the shriveled up flowers just be for now.
So we continued to water, to monitor for growth. One morning before work, I carefully examined the dead blossoms. Lo and behold! The beginnings of a tomato!
Picture it with me. The shriveled up looking part was actually the bottom portion of a tomato. A tiny green tomato was already beginning to form. Imagine my happiness! It's as if I had a eureka moment in discovering what I thought was dead had come back to life. It was kind of a resurrection moment.
On the recent TEC retreat, a quote supposedly by St Ignatius (not sure if it was of Loyola or Antioch) goes "little deaths, little resurrections." In my eyes, he almost meant this quote to be for the tomatoes.
Over the past couple weeks, the tomatoes have grown larger and ripened into beautiful red tomatoes right before our eyes. Perhaps the growth of tomatoes could be a reflection of what happens when we attempt to cultivate our faith, just as we have tried cultivating our precious little tomato plants.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Friday, July 22, 2011
TEC
Teens Encounter Christ
I made my first TEC retreat when I was 17 as a junior in high school.
12 years later, I was asked to lead as an adult on this retreat for teens, even though my patients and co-workers often point out that I look like a teenager myself. Since hearing it in college, I have often passed along the Dorothy Day quote, "Comfort the afflicted; afflict the comfortable." Being 29 and rarely interacting with teens these days, I was asked to step out of my comfort zone as I became part of the TEC retreat team. I felt a slight discomfort at each of the planning meetings beforehand. There was a woman whom the others refer to as Mama Beth. Beth and I had worked together on the wheat team on a previous TEC. She always greeted me with a hug and made me feel comfortable. It is clear why they call her mama. To me, she personifies Christ.
Prior to the arrival of the candidates, the directors of this TEC retreat reminded us that this retreat was about the teenagers. We were encouraged to show and speak of the love God has for each one of them, each one of us. It was no mistake that they were present on the TEC weekend. It was somehow all a part of God's plan.
Reflecting back to my first TEC as a teen, I recall being most touched by the wheat letter my mother wrote to me. Being raised by filipino parents, the words "I love you" weren't often spoken so much as shown in action versus literal word. My mom wrote that she loved me very much, even though she didn't verbalize it frankly. The tears poured upon reading her letter.
But I digress.
While the TEC retreat this time around wasn't about me, I couldn't help but be touched by the talks shared by the team. In our brokenness and in our joys, God is so apparently alive and with us. I found myself tearful more than a few times, as I listened to the hopes, the hurts, the honesty, the desire to return to God, the fears, the failures, the faith, the love. We share Christ in our human stories. It is quite the beautiful thing.
I forget what a powerful weekend TEC can be, as long as one enters with an open mind and heart.
I made my first TEC retreat when I was 17 as a junior in high school.
12 years later, I was asked to lead as an adult on this retreat for teens, even though my patients and co-workers often point out that I look like a teenager myself. Since hearing it in college, I have often passed along the Dorothy Day quote, "Comfort the afflicted; afflict the comfortable." Being 29 and rarely interacting with teens these days, I was asked to step out of my comfort zone as I became part of the TEC retreat team. I felt a slight discomfort at each of the planning meetings beforehand. There was a woman whom the others refer to as Mama Beth. Beth and I had worked together on the wheat team on a previous TEC. She always greeted me with a hug and made me feel comfortable. It is clear why they call her mama. To me, she personifies Christ.
Prior to the arrival of the candidates, the directors of this TEC retreat reminded us that this retreat was about the teenagers. We were encouraged to show and speak of the love God has for each one of them, each one of us. It was no mistake that they were present on the TEC weekend. It was somehow all a part of God's plan.
Reflecting back to my first TEC as a teen, I recall being most touched by the wheat letter my mother wrote to me. Being raised by filipino parents, the words "I love you" weren't often spoken so much as shown in action versus literal word. My mom wrote that she loved me very much, even though she didn't verbalize it frankly. The tears poured upon reading her letter.
But I digress.
While the TEC retreat this time around wasn't about me, I couldn't help but be touched by the talks shared by the team. In our brokenness and in our joys, God is so apparently alive and with us. I found myself tearful more than a few times, as I listened to the hopes, the hurts, the honesty, the desire to return to God, the fears, the failures, the faith, the love. We share Christ in our human stories. It is quite the beautiful thing.
I forget what a powerful weekend TEC can be, as long as one enters with an open mind and heart.
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