Eat Your Vegetables

When you're a music student, in graduate school, pinching all your pennies and all your hours to get the absolute most out of each--consider yourself privileged, dear reader, that I am writing to you!--you sometimes shy away from going to yet another concert.
But you're husband is in it, the choir is good, and you need more recital credit anyway so it's homework, right?
You know you have to sit alone, so at the last minute, after the gift of supper at the cafeteria which you don't budget for but accept gladly, you call your girl-friend and ask if per chance she can leave her homework for an hour or so for an evening of music. It's for the visiting high school students, you say, but we're welcome and it should be fun.
She says yes. And it's the best choir performance you've heard since coming to school here. You know they're good, and you know you're spoiled rotten to hear them sing all the time, but this--this performance is exquisite, incredible, beyond belief. It's heart-stopping beautiful. Indescribably so.
Afterward, you go home and search for a good recording of the Frostiana pieces they sang--The Pasture, A Girl's Garden. All you manage to find on YouTube put together can't match the quality of the choir you've just heard, but you do stumble across a piece called Eat Your Vegetables.
It gets played over and over. You laugh. Your husband laughs too as soon as he hears it. You can't believe anyone wrote something that brilliant. You tell choir director husband that if he ever needs a secular piece, he should choose that one.
Next day, weary from the last couple of late music nights, you see the sign at the grocery store: "One-day produce sale."
You don't want to go grocery shopping until tomorrow, but you simply must go tonight after all. You know to eat your vegetables, and you know to buy them at a good price whenever they'll give ito you. Avocados? .48 each. Strawberries? .98 per package. Orange sweet potatoes? .38 per pound. Onions? .33 per pound.
Do you know we went without buying avocados for a year or more because they were always more than a dollar each? Do you know what it feels like to go without avocados for that long, and then buy eight in one night, when last week's green ones are still ripening in your basket at home?
It's pure privilege. It cannot be described in words.
You stock up. You call at least one friend. You thank God again for providing everything for all this scholarly time when the budget is small. You thank Him also for the musical food that floods the soul, knowing this privilege doesn't follow you everywhere you go. You thank Him for twice-daily family worships, for a solid spiritual leader in your home.
And you trust that whatever is ahead in the coming months, especially those just following your comprehensive exams, He will always provide exactly like He has always provided.