tomato caper
1
T A L E S F RO M T H E P A R S O NA G E
The Tomato Caper
SCRIPTURE STUDY Psalm 32
FORBIDDEN FRUIT (I MEAN VEGETABLES.) Dougie Scott was my next door neighbor and my best buddy. I loved to push my pudgy, freckle-faced neighbor around because he would blindly follow any evil plan I concocted. Such devotion to me was probably because he was the youngest of four bullying brothers and sisters, and my intimidation techniques seemed tame by comparison.
PRAYER FOCUS Dear Jesus, Give me a heart of integrity, that I may not hide my sin from you. Help me to confess my sins, and to obey Your Word. In Jesus’ Name, Amen
The Scott backyard was a verdant paradise compared to ours. Dougie’s dad had a garden filled with delicious produce: sweet corn, okra, beets, sugar-snap peas and cherry tomatoes. Larry Scott spent most of his evenings and weekends hoeing, fertilizing, weed-whacking and grooming his earthen mistress. I’m not sure he never saw his wife Dixie. With her five hellions running rag-tag in the house, she was probably gagged and tied-up in the garage by her mischievous progeny. My mother and father had brown thumbs. We had nettle-infested grass, a clothesline, and a mimosa tree that dumped green dandruff all over our front porch. I look with envy at the Scott’s aluminum swimming pool, the tire swing, and plump, delicious veggies across the backyard fence. The Scott’s beautiful vegetable garden was off-limits to errant children and hungry rabbits. We weren’t sure, but Dougie’s father warned of land mines in the row between the fence and the sweet corn.
2 One particularly sultry July morning, Dougie and I could stand it no longer. We had to partake of the forbidden fruit (I mean vegetables.) Mr. Scott was at the hardware store buying a weed-eater. He was so enamored with all things agricultural, we figured we had at least an hour to sneak a snack before he returned. Now came the big decision-what would our booty be? Sweet corn was pretty tasteless without a pound of butter and some salt and pepper. Okra was too hairy. Nobody ate carrots except the brave bunnies who lived behind the carport. Then we saw them-plump, ripe, red and round-bushes and bushes of cherry tomatoes. They shone in the sunlight like rubies. We though the word “cherry” must mean they were filled with fruity goodness. I made Dougie fetch a bucket and a salt shaker. We surveyed the perimeter, headed for the tomato row and plucked the delectable orbs as fast as our chubby little hands could pluck. After we had denuded three or four plants, we surreptitiously crept behind the shed to enjoy our forbidden fruit (I mean vegetables.) I expected to taste the sweet nectar of cherry pie filling when I bit into the first little tomato. To my surprise, an army of green seeds shot forth from the veggie like a bee-bee gun. All that was left after the initial squirt was a rubbery skin and some vinegary liquid. But our prize was too hard-won not to partake.
So we salted each little red bullet and shoved them in our mouths. It was almost lunchtime, so I downed twenty or thirty of them in ten minutes. Dougie, not to be outdone by a skinny girl, did the same. We polished off the entire bucket just in time to hear our mother’s whistles summoning us for lunch. We hastily returned the muddy bucket and ran to our respective houses just in time for the midday meal. To my chagrin, my plate was piled high with a cheese sandwich and oodles of little cherry tomato halves. One look at those seedy little red balls made the room spin and my snack returned from whence it came. Needless to say, the kitchen linoleum looked like someone had spewed rotten salsa everywhere. I truly learned the meaning of the verse “You can be sure that your sins will find you out.” Dougie and I were grounded for a week. Dixie said I was a bad influence on her innocent little cherub, but I knew better. We devised our tomato robbery together. If Mr. Scott had not grown his garden so close to my chain-link fence, I never would have been tempted to steal. Or would I? I have since readily consumed summer squash, okra, corn, peas and asparagus, but I never want to see another cherry tomato again. Psalm 32:1-5: “Oh, what joy for those whose disobedience is forgiven, whose sin is put out of sight! 2 Yes, what joy for those whose record the Lord has cleared of guilt,[b] whose lives are lived in complete honesty! 3 When I refused to confess my sin, my body wasted away, and I groaned all day long. 4 Day and night your hand of discipline was heavy on me. My strength evaporated like water in the summer heat. 5 Finally, I confessed all my sins to you and stopped trying to hide my guilt. I said to myself, “I will confess my rebellion to the Lord.” And you forgave me! All my guilt is gone.
T A L E S F RO M T H E P A R S O NA G E
The Tomato Caper
SCRIPTURE STUDY Psalm 32
FORBIDDEN FRUIT (I MEAN VEGETABLES.) Dougie Scott was my next door neighbor and my best buddy. I loved to push my pudgy, freckle-faced neighbor around because he would blindly follow any evil plan I concocted. Such devotion to me was probably because he was the youngest of four bullying brothers and sisters, and my intimidation techniques seemed tame by comparison.
PRAYER FOCUS Dear Jesus, Give me a heart of integrity, that I may not hide my sin from you. Help me to confess my sins, and to obey Your Word. In Jesus’ Name, Amen
The Scott backyard was a verdant paradise compared to ours. Dougie’s dad had a garden filled with delicious produce: sweet corn, okra, beets, sugar-snap peas and cherry tomatoes. Larry Scott spent most of his evenings and weekends hoeing, fertilizing, weed-whacking and grooming his earthen mistress. I’m not sure he never saw his wife Dixie. With her five hellions running rag-tag in the house, she was probably gagged and tied-up in the garage by her mischievous progeny. My mother and father had brown thumbs. We had nettle-infested grass, a clothesline, and a mimosa tree that dumped green dandruff all over our front porch. I look with envy at the Scott’s aluminum swimming pool, the tire swing, and plump, delicious veggies across the backyard fence. The Scott’s beautiful vegetable garden was off-limits to errant children and hungry rabbits. We weren’t sure, but Dougie’s father warned of land mines in the row between the fence and the sweet corn.
2 One particularly sultry July morning, Dougie and I could stand it no longer. We had to partake of the forbidden fruit (I mean vegetables.) Mr. Scott was at the hardware store buying a weed-eater. He was so enamored with all things agricultural, we figured we had at least an hour to sneak a snack before he returned. Now came the big decision-what would our booty be? Sweet corn was pretty tasteless without a pound of butter and some salt and pepper. Okra was too hairy. Nobody ate carrots except the brave bunnies who lived behind the carport. Then we saw them-plump, ripe, red and round-bushes and bushes of cherry tomatoes. They shone in the sunlight like rubies. We though the word “cherry” must mean they were filled with fruity goodness. I made Dougie fetch a bucket and a salt shaker. We surveyed the perimeter, headed for the tomato row and plucked the delectable orbs as fast as our chubby little hands could pluck. After we had denuded three or four plants, we surreptitiously crept behind the shed to enjoy our forbidden fruit (I mean vegetables.) I expected to taste the sweet nectar of cherry pie filling when I bit into the first little tomato. To my surprise, an army of green seeds shot forth from the veggie like a bee-bee gun. All that was left after the initial squirt was a rubbery skin and some vinegary liquid. But our prize was too hard-won not to partake.
So we salted each little red bullet and shoved them in our mouths. It was almost lunchtime, so I downed twenty or thirty of them in ten minutes. Dougie, not to be outdone by a skinny girl, did the same. We polished off the entire bucket just in time to hear our mother’s whistles summoning us for lunch. We hastily returned the muddy bucket and ran to our respective houses just in time for the midday meal. To my chagrin, my plate was piled high with a cheese sandwich and oodles of little cherry tomato halves. One look at those seedy little red balls made the room spin and my snack returned from whence it came. Needless to say, the kitchen linoleum looked like someone had spewed rotten salsa everywhere. I truly learned the meaning of the verse “You can be sure that your sins will find you out.” Dougie and I were grounded for a week. Dixie said I was a bad influence on her innocent little cherub, but I knew better. We devised our tomato robbery together. If Mr. Scott had not grown his garden so close to my chain-link fence, I never would have been tempted to steal. Or would I? I have since readily consumed summer squash, okra, corn, peas and asparagus, but I never want to see another cherry tomato again. Psalm 32:1-5: “Oh, what joy for those whose disobedience is forgiven, whose sin is put out of sight! 2 Yes, what joy for those whose record the Lord has cleared of guilt,[b] whose lives are lived in complete honesty! 3 When I refused to confess my sin, my body wasted away, and I groaned all day long. 4 Day and night your hand of discipline was heavy on me. My strength evaporated like water in the summer heat. 5 Finally, I confessed all my sins to you and stopped trying to hide my guilt. I said to myself, “I will confess my rebellion to the Lord.” And you forgave me! All my guilt is gone.
