The garden at St John the Merciful Mission in Anacostia, DC is thriving. On these late summer Sundays, Matushka Sabine fills brown paper bags with the freshly picked tomatoes, peppers, squash and insists us to take some home. It is undeniably a blessing: fresh, locally-grown, organic produce, the literal fruits of labor and providence.

*Photo credit to Matushka Sabine, always capturing my domestic side*

And strangely, some days I demur. “Oh, someone else should take these,” I say. Is it because I don’t want to seem greedy?

If I’m being honest, the sheepish thought that actually arises inside me is: I don’t want to be a good steward of these tomatoes.

Being a good steward of tomatoes means not letting them to go to waste.
Not letting them go to waste means they are eaten.
Eating raw tomatoes en masse can lead to less-than-ideal gastrointestinal consequences (ask me how I know).
The most sensible thing to do is to prepare them.
I am too [tired, busy, insert excuse here] to prepare them.

I have two fears: that the tomatoes will rot on my counter, and the greater fear — that I’ll feel ashamed when they do.

Maybe there is a kind of holy weight to not wanting to let a good thing go to waste. Or maybe it’s just guilt. Either way, in the spirit of good stewardship, here is my improvised ‘garden arrabbiata’.

I filled a glass baking dish with mostly roma tomatoes and a couple of bell peppers, drizzled with olive oil, sprinkled with Italian spices, red pepper flakes, cayenne, and garlic. Roasted at 350 degrees for about 40 min, drained the excess liquid, and blended it together. At this point the sauce was quite acidic, so I added some carrot honey (purchased at the Maryland Renaissance Faire). Eaten with the pasta I had on hand (mini bowties) and parmesan cheese.

In this I am learning that blessings don’t often arrive on our timing. Sometimes they come bundled with complicated feelings — they are not always a pure, simple good. I can find myself caught between gratitude for the gift and resentment for the additional burden. And even so, I still have a choice: to receive it, or not.

As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another as good stewards (oikonomos) of God’s grace in its various forms. —1 Peter 4:10

The harvest is plentiful, and the tomatoes are ripe now. Without being picked, they will fall off the vine and return to the earth. Nothing is wasted in nature, but it seems we have an invitation to steward what we have been given—however imperfectly—and through God’s grace, be nourished in that cycle.

On stewarding tomatoes

Wildly Inefficient

The List