knock knock

Our assignment was to provide two watermelons for the Little One's birthday picnic. We took it in stride, but then realized we rarely buy watermelons. At least whole ones. How were we going to find good ones? I have choosing cantelopes down to a science, but not watermelons. Seedless was suggested, but when we got to the store and saw the little round balls called "seedless" and their price tag, we opted for some seed-spitting.

We didn't have a clue what to do when we got to the big box of green watermelons. "Remember greasing these things up and playing catch with them in the pool when we were kids," I reminded the Gardener. I tried knocking on them as I've seen others do. I asked a young man who apparently works in produce. He didn't know. Next thing I know he's over at a shelf where they are cut in quarters. "Let's see what color the outside is since these look good, and then go find similar depth of color on a whole melon. Maybe that's the trick."

I wasn't impressed and asked some others passing by. No one seemed to know.  As I checked my watch, noting a tiny sliver of panic beginning deep inside, I turned and saw a woman looking at the melons. I asked if she knew how to find a good melon.

"Well," she replied with a smile, "I should know. I grew up on a watermelon farm. You knock and listen for hollow."

"Could you find us two good ones?" And she did. And I declare, they were about the tastiest watermelon I've ever had. And barely any seeds.

I see glimpses of God in many ways throughout a day.  On this particular afternoon, I have no doubt he showed up in the produce department.