Life as a Potato


girl in a field


I could have just as easily used a metaphorical butterfly to compare our lives too.

Butterflies seem too cliché-ish.

Potatoes don’t get a fair chance, in my opinion.

Like I’ve written before, you just never know where you will get your inspiration.

Inspiration came to me while I was knee deep in dirt and potato plants.

Not sure I’ve ever mentioned my nickname before: It’s City.

I got the nickname from my best friend’s husband because of my obvious oblivion to country living.

It isn’t like I grew up as “girl in the big city” but the way of country life was foreign to me until we moved back home about two years ago.

With aging parents and adult responsibilities rearing its head, I got a crash course in farming 101.

My first experience with potatoes came over the weekend.

From the surface, all I saw was a green dried up plant that appeared useless. But when I pulled the plant up from its roots I saw little red potatoes under the rich dark soil.

I squealed with excitement each time I pulled another potato plant up from the earth.

A quick note on my husband:  If my nickname is City, his nickname would be Country.

He bared my obnoxious squeals and let me delight myself in this new “skill” I had acquired.

City: Official Potato Picker.

Here’s the point to my ramble.

Our life can be compared to a field of potato plants.


From the surface, we may not look like much but when cultivated in the deep rich soil we produce one awesome harvest.

The deep rich soil in which we grow is God’s word and just like farming, it takes time for us to mature.

We might not always look like much, but God knows what produce we are each capable of.

And I would like to think every time He goes out to harvest His produce, God squeals in delight.


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