“Hey Nana, I Got One!”

When my granddaughter was about four years old, she loved coming over for day visits. She was a lively, petite little thing, full of energy and curiosity. I was always looking for ways to keep her busy while also opening her eyes to new experiences. More often than not, those activities led us outdoors into God’s creation.

One afternoon, inspiration struck. My husband had built a storage shed attached to his workshop. He used most of the shelves for leftover construction supplies, but I had claimed a small space of my own. On my two shelves sat clay pots, garden containers, and odds and ends I couldn’t part with. Among them was an old strawberry planter. Time had given it character — a natural patina and even a touch of moss from the morning sprinkler’s mist. As soon as I saw it, I knew: this would be my Doll’s next adventure.

We made a whole day of it. First, we cleaned the old pot together, our hands caked with mud and laughter. Then we drove to Lowe’s, where she proudly picked out soil and little strawberry plants. Back home, we made a glorious mess tucking the plants into their new home. She was delighted — and so was I.

That very afternoon she must have checked the planter a dozen times. “Is there a strawberry yet, Nana?” she’d ask with her eyes wide. Of course, no fruit could appear in just one day. But to her, the miracle of expectation was enough.

On her future visits, the first thing she did was dash to her strawberry pot. And oh, the excitement when she found fruit! She’d run back shouting, “Hey Nana, I got one!” with the kind of joy only a child can express.

Now, I’ll confess something. Sometimes, when I knew no berries were ready, I would slip a store-bought strawberry into her planter before she arrived. I know — some might say I should have let her face disappointment and learn patience. But I longed to see her little face light up with discovery, and I couldn’t resist.

It became a lesson to me.

How often have I looked at the “fruit” in my own life and thought it was all my doing? How often have I admired my efforts, forgetting that every good thing planted, every harvest gathered, has come from the gracious hand of God? Just as my granddaughter thought she had grown strawberries overnight, I too sometimes forget that my fruit is not the result of my labor alone — it is a gift, placed there by the Father who loves me.

Jesus said, “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing” (John 15:5, NIV).

The truth is, any fruit in our lives — patience, kindness, love, or even blessings we can hold in our hands — comes not because of our striving, but because God Himself has made it grow. He delights to see our faces light up when we discover what He has planted for us.

So now, whenever I think of that mossy old strawberry pot, I remember: my fruit is really His. And that makes it even sweeter.