I have been very blessed with a very abundant garden. Mind you, I have worked for it. I have sweated for it and I’m so pleased to see that my work is rewarded. In one day I can harvest enough blackberries from the bush to make two batches of blackberry jam. This is my first year to make blackberry jam. I have to say that it has turned out quiet delicious!
The tomatoes. Oh the tomatoes. The cherries came on at the same time the romas did and man oh man have they come on the vine. I made two batches of spagetti sauce before the bigger tomatoes even came on. The girls will eat half a plate of them in one days setting.
The bigger tomatoes have come on with an onslaught. Dad and I picked the tomatoes and had a laundry basket full with just the big tomatoes. Together we got everything ready and we peeled, seeded and prepped a slew of tomatoes for spagetti sauce. Unfortunately none of the nearby stores had the packets we needed for the spices so I had to wait a couple days for it.
I found my mix and was ready to cook. I have so enjoyed the canning process this year. Not only is it fun, but the product tastes pretty good as well. So I measured out my pulp, mixed and cooked. Filled my jars, tightened my lids and set them in the canner for the long period of time they needed to be in there. While they were in there I made some more blackberry jam. I was doing good. We were on a roll!
Then. Oh then. I pulled my last jar from the canner and I’m looking at the porch. I need to wash off this tomato goo before it dries. So I shut off the fire, turn off the gas and take the canner to the porch. Too heavy to heave so I tilt it to wash off the goo. The same porch I might add I was standing barefoot on.
Oh it didn’t take long before my flesh alerted me of my wrong doing. I had splashed on my ankle, toes and arm. Oh my oh my! I slowly sat the canner on it’s bottom and quickly ran to the kitchen. I was standing in two pots of water thinking to myself. ‘How can I be so stupid? What was I thinking?’
After a few phone calls Dad came out with a bag of ice and some medicine. Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep that night. I sat in the recliner with both feet in a big pot of water. Dad did his best to make me comfortable and even told me if I needed something throughout the night to wake him. (he slept on the couch)
That next morning I hurt so much. I couldn’t believe feet could swell so greatly. I thought for sure my little toes were going to shoot right off the ends of my feet! Now I have to tell you, here’s Dad throwing me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes to put me in the truck (we had to pick up the girls) and I’m thinking to myself – ‘you know, under any other circumstances, this would be so romantic’.
My feet were so tender that day that I couldn’t even stand for the air to brush past them. The past week I haven’t worn shoes once (which isn’t THAT unusual) and I’ve acquired the nickname “Hop-along”.
Through this horridly painful event, I have to say this. God has used it for good. As my good friend Missy said, “There are no conciquences. It was meant to happen.” And I would reckon He knew what He was doing because if He would have said, “I want you to . . ,” I have to admit I would have needed to seen some ‘scars in the hands’ proof. Good things have come from it and I keep in mind what the evangelist said, “Scars are Signs of Healing.”
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