It all began with a bowl of tomatoes I never planted. A few weeks ago, as I stepped into my backyard, I noticed a tomato plant sprouting confidently between cracks in the soil. I didn’t water it. I didn’t fertilize it. I didn’t even plan for it. Yet there it was; growing, thriving, and whispering a quiet truth about life and the blessings we overlook. This last Saturday, I harvested a bowl full of plump, red fruits from that accidental gardener’s dream, and I couldn’t help but marvel.
The seeds must have come from somewhere; maybe a bird’s meal gone rogue or wastewater from the kitchen that found its way into the earth. Whatever the origin, the message was clear. Life flourishes where it is given the slightest chance. And in that moment, as I held the tomatoes in my hand, I couldn’t stop thinking about Nigeria. My beloved, chaotic, and endlessly blessed country.
How can a land so rich in soil and sunshine be haunted by the ghost of hunger? How can we lament food inflation when our yards, balconies, and even plastic buckets can birth abundance? These thoughts hit me like sunlight after rain. We Nigerians are blessed beyond measure, yet we often complain as though we’ve been cursed. We pray for miracles while ignoring the seeds already in our hands.
A bountfiul Harvest from a Crop I did't plant
Everyone wants the clean job. We want the comfort of air-conditioned offices, crisp shirts, and conference calls, but not the satisfaction of growing our own food or cultivating what sustains us. The soil beneath our feet could feed us, heal us, and even employ us, but we’ve turned our backs on it in favor of prestige. And so, the tomatoes rot, the farms empty, and the markets cry scarcity.
As I washed the dust off my surprise harvest, I thought about the irony of our collective prayers. Many of us are asking God for open doors while sitting in houses full of unopened windows. We pray for increase but waste opportunity. We fast for abundance but ignore the fertile ground within reach. The truth is, some blessings don’t fall from heaven, they grow from the ground, watered by effort and recognition.
That’s when I realized the tomato plant was more than just a plant, it was a parable. The universe, God, nature, whatever you choose to call it, was teaching me something profound about potential. We keep looking for magic, expecting transformation to happen overnight. But life doesn’t work that way. Magic dazzles; miracles multiply. And miracles often begin with the small, unremarkable things we overlook; a seed, a conversation, a forgotten backyard.
If a tomato plant could flourish without my planning, imagine what could happen if I intentionally cultivated more. Imagine if each Nigerian decided to nurture even a small piece of earth; balcony pots, school gardens, community plots. We wouldn’t just reduce hunger; we’d rediscover dignity in productivity. Because in truth, food security begins with self-sufficiency. And self-sufficiency begins with the courage to get your hands dirty.
Many of us have seeds buried deep within us. Talents, ideas, relationships, and opportunities that we’ve ignored. We wait for grand miracles while standing in the middle of them. The same way I stumbled upon that tomato plant, many of us are surrounded by blessings that need only attention to thrive.
When you pray for progress, take a moment to look around. Maybe your harvest is already growing quietly in a corner of your life. Maybe what you call nothing is simply something you’ve neglected. The earth rewards action, not apathy, and so does life.
Today, that bowl of tomatoes sits as a reminder in my kitchen. A reminder that we are not as helpless as we think. The soil is fertile. The blessings are plenty. The only question is: will we plant intentionally, or keep lamenting over an empty plate?
Posted Using INLEO