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The Missing Fruit

In the same van where he dropped a booger off his fingernail yesterday and where his soccer cleats are rotting, my son is trying to remember the verse. The one that rattles off all the fruits of the Spirit.

“The fruits of the Spirit,” he says, “are love, joy, peace, patience…and…”

He is stuck.

I can see him in the rear view mirror, his eyes widening, waiting for the next “fruit” to hit him.

And something does.

“Quietness,” he says. He nods his own approval. “Love, joy, peace, patience and quietness.”

My smile begins slowly, but spreads until I can’t get it back. This may not be a holy moment, but it feels like one.

I murmur, “Quietness.” And again, trying it on with conviction “quietness.”

We stumble and hiccup and forget our way through the rest of the real list which finishes, “…kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.”

But mostly we practice “quietness” on the way home.

The non-fruit of quietness.

And it blesses us all.


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