(Note: A few hours before I decided to publish this Blog, last night, May 1, 2011, around 11:00 p.m., EST, President Barack Obama announced to the world that Osama bin Laden had been killed by U. S. Navy Seals In a compound in Pakistan .  His body was later buried at sea, lest a shrine to his body be erected.  Finally, there is a resolution to THE HUNT that began on September 11, 2001, when 3,000 people perished .  May God bless our President, our military, and our intelligence forces.)

Each Springtime, as new growth is exploding all around us with its promised abundance of beauty and sustenance, my memory flashes back to our humble dwelling, deep in the heart of Texas.  I think of my godly parents, Claude and Odelle Gray, and a large plot of ground waiting its harvest of soon-to-be tomatoes.  The farm was not large, by any means, in comparison to present day Texas farms and ranches, but in my child’s imagination, it loomed large.

A long time before my daddy entrusted his young, tender tomato plants to the large open field, he had already carefully cultivated and nurtured the soil, making straight, mounded rows that resembled soldiers saluting their authority.  I’m sure that it wasn’t easy deciding on the right moment to release the plants from their protected “cold frames” to the uncertain elements and/or predators of the open field.  No Internet; no radar; no 7-day forecast; no weather.com.  The best daddy could do was pore over the most recent Farmer’s Almanac or search the skies for current conditions.  At best, no one could accurately predict adverse weather conditions, nor prepare for their often devastating results.

Embedded in my memory is this one spring, probably in the early 1940’s.  The tomato plants were thriving beautifully in the open field, laden with good-sized, green tomatoes – well on their way to near perfect maturity.  In a short time, they would be ready for harvesting and transporting to the wholesale green-market, with no more than a blush of color - if any - on them.  In a few days, they would then magically appear in the local retail markets in the area, showcasing their bright tomato- red color!  Daddy was well-known in the area to be among the first to produce such early, mature tomatoes.

Suddenly, this particular spring, a tremendous hailstorm swept across our small farm in East Texas, pounding and wiping out my daddy’s tomato crop, taking with it the bulk of his monetary provision for our family that year.  Unrelenting, the hail targeted all of the tomatoes, as I recall, leaving few to survive its onslaught.  In my memory, the hail was large, looking like an invasion of frozen snowballs littering the ground.

I don’t remember how, or if, my daddy recovered any of his crop of tomatoes that year.  I can say for sure, though, that no insurance adjuster was contacted to assess the damages to his prized beauties, or to our modest home, which no doubt sustained damages, too.  Knowing my daddy, he started all over again and somehow provided for our family by his hard work and accepting the loss as it was: simply an act of God, permitted, for some reason, in His wisdom.

In recent days my heart has hurt for the thousands of families whose loved ones were killed and their homes reduced to mere splinters by unspeakable, 500 mph tornadic activity.  Not only lives, but cherished photos and letters that once documented precious memories were lost or blown away to who knows where.  Devastation that baffles the most seasoned meteorologists, and uncalculated heartache is being suffered, due to the unbelievable havoc across many of our southern states.  There is no comparison of my daddy’s tomato crop that was wiped out, only that the lessons learned from these indescribable experiences should bring us to our knees in gratitude for our having being spared.  Dare we ask why?  If we allow our hearts to hear an answer, how will we show our thankfulness?

In honor of my daddy’s memory, a few weeks ago I set out two tomato plants in a pot on my deck.  Bill filled the pot with new soil, a little Miracle-Gro was applied, and they took root and are on their way!  The two plants have now intertwined, embracing each other!   Bill placed some supportive caging around them and they are standing strong, surviving our recent hail storm!  I don’t need the hail to remind me of my daddy, but I think he would be proud to know that I still remember the lessons he taught me, knowing just how to break off those suckers that don’t belong there, and pruning them often, as he would do.  He would be proud, too, that if they make it to “picking, tomato-sandwich” time, I will gladly share!  Any takers for future orders?  Anybody got any watermelons?  I’ve always loved bartering!