Are you Smarter Than a Tomato Plant?

            I’m a sucker for anything that grows. . .plant life, babies, banking accounts.  I find it all fascinating and inexplicably satisfying.

                I’ll admit that I probably jumped the gun a bit in planting my garden seeds. I just couldn’t help it. As soon as the calendar flipped to March, I found myself scanning the seed packets at Menards.  All those pretty colors and tantalizing vegetables proved to be just too much for this summer-starved Midwesterner.  Apparently, my husband had the bug too because he debated the merits of one tomato over the other and helped me pick out the potential produce packets.

                For most of the winter, I have been collecting empty egg cartons. My fitness-spastic children have suddenly developed an affinity for eggs, so we have been flying through the 18-packs. At first, I started collecting them because I saw a sign at Cashwise that there was a shortage of them. I’m not sure if I thought I was going to haul a load into Cashwise later or what, but two stacks of the empty cartons have been accumulating and had become perilously close to the kitchen ceiling.

                “What are you going to do with them all, Mom?” Nick asked one day. Good question, so in a moment of Pinterest brilliance, I told him that I was going to plant my seeds in them. He bought it, and I felt like a genius.

About two weeks or so ago, I planted them all. My long-suffering husband spent part of a Saturday installing a fluorescent “grow” light downstairs, and my “babies” have been tanning ever since.  A week ago, my tomatoes sprouted; the onions have followed suit, and I see signs of life with the pumpkins, cukes, and jalapenos.

Tonight, as I was watering them, I started thinking about my tomatoes. Those little guys are currently leaning hard toward the light. As soon as they pushed through the soil, they knew exactly what they wanted. They just can’t get enough of it, and they won’t take their eyes (Ok, I consider their leaves to be “eyes”) off it. Even when the light goes off, they keep their “eyes” trained in that direction and continue to lean in.

Gosh, those little tomato plants are so smart. . .and simple. We humans are supposed to be the smart ones – the caretakers of the Earth, plants, and animals. But the fact of the matter is we sure are stupid.

Rather than seek the light like the tomatoes plants do, we stumble around in the darkness, thinking we can take care of things on our own. Need to make a decision? Consult your horoscope of the advice of ten people. Having trouble in your marriage or with your kids? Read a book. Have a bad day? Eat a cookie or a dozen. Have a drink or four. Why is it that we often choose the inky darkness of dead-end or flawed solutions as opposed to turning our faces to the light of truth?

 “I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them” Isaiah 42:16.  

 The older I get, the more I am convinced that the answers to life’s problems are all around us. First and foremost, God’s Word is the definitive “Dummy” guide. All of the answers to life’s questions are there. God has provided numerous story problems with the answers provided (Noah’s Ark, Daniel in the Lion’s Den, The Great Samaritan, The Woman at the Well). It’s all there; we just have to take time to read it.

Secondly, God is aware of the human condition – the fact that we are stubborn, lazy, and yes, thick-headed, so he has provided a back-up lesson plan in nature. My fledgling tomatoes are just one example.

Another is corn. This theory originated when I was a kid. While driving past a field of corn, the tassels at the tops of the stalks reminded me of long fingers pointing straight to the sky. It may sound dumb, but it reminded me of a church congregation offering praise. To this day, the idea has stuck with me, and I think of it every time I drive by a field of corn. The lessons are there; we just have to pay attention and look for them.

The fact is that we humans are good at taking something simple and making it complicated. “You are my lamp, O LORD; the LORD turns my darkness into light” 2 Samuel 22:29. If tomato plants can figure it out, there is no reason why we can’t.