“Do you know how many crazy plant ladies I fought off for this thing?!” declared my hubby, standing in the front door holding a coffee in one hand and potted Christmas greens in the other. “I mean, I got to that plant place early and I still had to stand in line, the only man vying for a free-with-coffee-purchase plant that you don’t even water cause it’s just gonna die. You’d be proud—when I finally got to the front of the line I was like, give me the wildest, most sticking-out-everywhere plant you got because that’s what my wife likes!” I laugh, giving the hero-husband a kiss on the cheek, thankful for Holly-berry greens after this weary week.
I bury my face in the tickly needles, but six weeks past Covid-19 and still only the memory of pungent pine.
It’s funny how losing something you take for granted—the scent of baking bread wafting through the air, your morning soap, the smell of dinner burning on the stove, the bitter-sweet of dark chocolate, the smell of a kid who hasn’t showered in a week (seriously kid? Do you want friends?!)—gives you a greater appreciation for “little” gifts that aren’t as small as they seem.
Taste and see that the Lord is good takes on new meaning when you can’t taste a thing! Just how do you taste the Lord’s goodness when life’s difficulties dull your senses, when a week of difficult therapy appointments with your teen, the tears of a friend, the bitter email from estranged family, drain you numb?
The reality of the fall—of sickness, broken relationships, and loss—threatens to flatten the delight of taste and see. Yet when David said, “Taste and see that the Lord is good,” he was running, hiding from King Saul, whose murderous envy wouldn’t rest till David was dead. With no safe place to sleep and nothing to eat, David still declared—”Those who fear the Lord lack nothing, lack no good thing . . . . For the Lord draws close to the broken-hearted” reminding them that joy is not dependent on circumstance, but on the truth that He is good and working all things together for good, no matter how painful.
Trusting this truth refocuses my heart on the good God is doing—a husband fighting crowds to pick the plant that best fits me; Grandpa Dave defying the no-lunch-at breakfast rule to bring us all Chick-Fil-A from the drive-thru; three boys up late looking at old pictures, telling stories; a little woman cuddling up to me saying, “I miss you. Snuggle with me?”
Oh, taste and see that the LORD is good!
For. . . his steadfast love endures forever,
and his mercies are new every morning.
Great is his faithfulness.