Tonight, I came home from church just as the rain started. I was still in my church clothes.
No umbrella.  No plans to go into the garden.

Truthfully, my heart was still heavy.

Just yesterday, we laid my bonus son to rest. It was a beautiful celebration of his life, filled with music, laughter, tears, and memories. But funerals have a way of leaving an echo. Even after the final song is sung and everyone goes home, grief lingers quietly in the background.

My church clothes still carried the memory of yesterday.

And so did my heart.

As I hurried toward the house through the rain, something caught my eye. A flash of red. On one lonely big boy tomato.

Without thinking, I turned around and ran straight into the rain. No umbrella. Still dressed in my church clothes. Hair…well, let’s not even discuss the hair.

All for one tomato.

I laughed the moment I picked it. After months of building raised beds, filling grow bags, hauling soil, buying fertilizer, tomato cages, watering before work, battling mosquitoes, checking on my plants every morning, and praying over a garden that often seemed determined to test my patience, I joked that I was holding a $1,000 tomato.

The truth is…

It wasn’t worth a thousand dollars.

But in that moment…

It was worth running through the rain for.

Then the Holy Spirit gently whispered to my heart, “Isn’t that what I did for you?”

Jesus saw us caught in a storm far greater than rain. He didn’t stay where it was comfortable. He stepped into our brokenness.

Into our grief. Into our sin. Into death itself.

Not because we were perfect.

Not because we had everything together.

But because He saw something worth rescuing.

The Bible tells us that “while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8)
He didn’t wait until we had cleaned ourselves up. He came running toward us while we were still standing in the storm.

Sometimes life leaves us bruised by disappointment, exhausted by loss, or wondering if joy will ever find us again. Yet Jesus never measures our value by what we’ve been through.

He measures it by what He was willing to pay. The cross settled that question forever.

Then another thought settled into my spirit.
Yesterday, I ran toward a casket. Today, I ran toward a tomato.

One reminded me that life on earth is temporary.

The other reminded me that God still has a way of bringing new life out of seasons of sorrow.

Tonight, as I stood in my kitchen holding my little ‘$1,000 tomato,’ I realized maybe God wasn’t just letting me harvest fruit.

Maybe He was reminding me that even after a day of burying someone I loved…

Even while my heart was still aching…

There was still something worth running toward.

Sometimes God doesn’t stop the rain. Sometimes He places a glimpse of hope right in the middle of it.

A reminder that life is still growing.

That joy is still possible.

That healing is still coming.

Sometimes…

It looks like one little red tomato.

“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” — Psalm 30:5

Prayer

Father, thank You for stepping into my storms instead of watching them from a distance. Thank You for reminding me that even in seasons of grief, You continue to plant signs of hope along my path. Open my eyes to the little gifts You place in front of me each day, and help me remember that my value was settled at the cross. When my heart is heavy, give me the courage to keep running toward the joy You have prepared for me. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Remembering Donovan ❤️

Love, Chelle
DefyGravityWithoutWings.com