When the Yield Is Small

My boys,

Some years give less.

There is no elegant way to say it.

You can prepare the soil correctly.

Plant carefully.

Water faithfully.

Show up every morning.

And still stand at the end of the season with less in the basket than you expected.

I have had years like that.

In business.

In money.

In relationships.

In myself.

Years when the effort and the outcome did not seem remotely proportional.

That is difficult for a man who believes work should matter.

You start checking yourself.

Maybe I didn't work hard enough.

Maybe I chose wrong.

Maybe I missed something.

Sometimes you did.

Be honest about that.

But sometimes the rain simply didn't come.

Sometimes conditions changed.

Sometimes something you could not see was happening beneath the soil.

Sometimes there is no explanation satisfying enough to make the empty space feel full.

I have learned not to rush past that.

Disappointment deserves honesty.

If the yield was small, call it small.

Do not rename five tomatoes an abundant harvest because you are afraid gratitude requires pretending.

It doesn't.

Gratitude can tell the truth.

This was less than I hoped for.

This hurt.

I am disappointed.

I do not understand.

And I am still grateful for what is here.

Those sentences can sit at the same table.

There is dignity in that.

You don't have to collapse because the basket is light.

You also don't have to hold it above your head and pretend it is heavy.

Carry what came.

Count it accurately.

Learn what the season can teach you.

Then leave the field alone for a while.

There are years when God gives you enough to fill the barn.

There are years when He gives you enough to understand that the barn was never the source.

I am still learning that.

Because I like full barns.

I like results.

I like evidence that the work mattered.

But faith cannot depend entirely on visible yield.

Otherwise it is not faith.

It is accounting.

So tonight, the basket is lighter than I wanted.

I am not going to despair over it.

I am not going to lie about it either.

I will bring it inside.

We will eat what grew.

We will thank God for it.

And tomorrow...

I will save a few seeds.

I love you.

— Baba

Question:

Can you tell the truth about a disappointing season without allowing disappointment to tell you what the future will be?

Moral:

A small harvest is still a harvest. Hold disappointment honestly, receive what came with gratitude, and keep enough faith to save seed for another season.

This story reflects real experiences and philosophies behind Backyard Brew. It is shared to inspire perspective and intention.

Author: R. Solace