The Full Story
dew & Honey
dew
Before August of 2021, dew was the annoying wet on the ground that seeped through my mesh sneakers and made my socks damp.
My perception and experience of dew changed while farm-sitting for my daughter and son-in-law. They planned a family vacation, and my husband and I readily volunteered to mind the little homestead. We loaded our cars as if we were moving across the state. Bumping and wending over the quarter-mile-long gravel driveway brought us to ten acres of woods, trees, grass, ducks, chickens, goats, and two dogs. We had no idea what this nine-day adventure of (somewhat) living the farm life would show us.
Early in the week of our staycation, I walked through the dewy grass to the woods carrying a camping chair. I put it down on a deer path, straddling the hoof-hardened ground. After fiddling with my water cup and just sitting in silence, I opened my Bible and began reading where I left off the day before in Isaiah. This verse caught my attention:
Isaiah 26:19 (my emphasis added) ESV
Your dead shall live; their bodies shall rise.
You who dwell in the dust, awake and sing for joy!
For your dew is a dew of light,
and the earth will give birth to the dead.
Covid-19 slid in with 2020, just scooted right through the landscape and terrain of our daily lives, bringing an upheaval of dust and debris in its wake. I found myself dwelling in the dust, and I was thirsty. I kept waiting for rain.
God sent dew. Every morning for sixteen months, we walked through His Word—page after page, history after history, song after song, wisdom after wisdom, prophet after prophet, gospel after gospel, and letter after letter. My spiritual feet were wet with His dew. We almost made the journey twice—just reading the Word. No in-depth Bible studies. No rabbit trail word studies. No significant rains of revelation fell, no light shows of epiphany emerged.
For the poets and the prophets of the Old Testament, dew was welcomed and desired as a sign of God’s continuing daily provision. In a land that has little rainfall, dew is essential to help sustain life.
As I read Isaiah’s words, I awakened to the reality that God had sustained me in the upheaval, dew-washing my face and cleansing my spirit every morning; I wanted to sing for joy! Since then, I have walked barefoot in the morning and bent close to the ground, trying to capture the tiny shimmering orbs that rested on the blades of grass.
Questions bubbled up in me. What do I do now?
“Share the dew, Tamera. Help someone else get their feet wet and their faces washed. As you have been refreshed, so you refresh.”
His dew will sustain you.
Come join me, get your feet wet—you don’t have to dwell in the dust.
Honey
My third daughter introduced me to the beauty of bees and honey. Although digging into the history and lore of honey increased my curiosity, respect, and fascination, it did not increase my taste for honey.
One of the most fascinating treasures unearthed in King Tut’s tomb was a three-thousand-year-old jar of honey that was still edible—preserved even to the taste! Trading and bartering with honey often happened because people considered it a valuable and desired commodity. When Jacob sent his sons back to Egypt to appease Joseph, he told them to take the best of the land: a little balm, a little honey, pistachio nuts, and almonds (Genesis 43:11). Sounds close to baklava to me!
A friend invited me to morning coffee at her house, and it was a delightful visit. While we were talking, I heard them before I saw them, the faintest low hum.
“Are those bees?” I asked, and even I could hear the incredulity in my voice.
“Yes, didn’t you know my husband is a beekeeper?” She pointed to the hives in the corner of her yard where the rectangular boxes were arranged like a small white-washed city.
We walked to the fluted cement bowl—at least fifty bees hovered, perched, and dipped into the water. The number of them increased the volume of their buzzing. Bees are ridiculously remarkable, even more up close. I couldn’t resist and reached out to touch one bee’s back. Busy drinking, it ignored me.
My insides fluttered, and the hair on my arm raised. Pay attention, Tamera.
Deborah is my friend’s name, and it means the bee—this is the serendipity of only the God kind. The queen bee went into her house and came out with a bottle and a teaspoon. I watched as she squeezed the bottle; the swirling translucent gold liquid filled the spoon, the weight of each swirl flowing into the other. She handed me the spoon. I took it and tentatively lifted it to my lips. I wonder if she caught my surprise as the honey melted on my tongue and was not what I expected. I licked my spoon, savoring every trace on my lips. My friend laughed, and so did I. Boldly, I asked for another teaspoon and lapped it up too.
This wouldn’t be a new or unexpected experience to many who know the difference between processed honey and honey from the hive to the table. But I didn’t know. I didn’t hear an angel choir that morning; however, somewhere under the goosebumps, I could feel it. David’s words rose in me, “Taste and see that the Lord is good.” Tears flowed down my face.
Before this experience, I tasted a diluted substitute—honey made for mass consumption and a competitive price. I bought two pounds of honey from my friend and carried it home like the treasure it is.
Honey is mentioned over sixty times in the Bible, and most often, it is a symbol of abundance and richness. It is used to describe the Promised Land—the land flowing with milk and honey.
The Lord—Jehovah-Jireh—longs to heal us. He offers us the healing and protective honey of his Word. He nourishes us, tells us to open wide our mouths, and he will fill them. Taste and see that the Lord is good is an invitation to experience and participate in one of the foundational characteristics of who God is.
He is good, but you must taste to see.
