The Case for Agua Frescas

For the 4^th of July, a group of about a dozen of us went to my brother, Steve’s house in Valencia.  He had barbequed some meaty beef ribs, some chicken sausages, and baked a homemade 7-Up cake; sister-in-law brought some tasty bread; cousin brought fresh corn on the cob and German chocolate cake; girlfriend brought pasta salad and a sweet potato pie; I took strawberry lemonade, ranch beans, cucumber-roma tomato-red onion-olive salad, potato salad, and a watermelon.

Pastor Arland said a prayer thanking God for our freedom, for privileges we enjoy as Americans and for the food we were about to devour.  He finished blessing the food and we dug in.  We all had a very good time eating.  In addition we told jokes, told childhood stories about one another, picked on each other in general, watched the aerial view of America on the Smithsonian channel on Steve’s big screen and played board games.  After all the festivities were over we divvied up the left overs and prepared to leave.  Even though whoever wanted to take food did so, Steve got stuck with a lot of food. 

As we were leaving I realized that we had not cut the watermelon.  When it is hot out, few things beat a piece of cold, sweet watermelon.  It was warm out in Steve’s area, but I thought it would be too messy to cut the melon and take some home.  So we left the whole thing there.  A few days later, Steve says to me, “Where did you get that watermelon?  It was the best one I had in a long time.”  Of course my first thought was that I should have taken some of that melon with me.  My second thought was that I would just go back to the market where I had gotten the 1^st watermelon to get another.  The problem is that I don’t know how to pick out a watermelon.  So I did what I saw some other people do – slap the melon and listen for a hollow sound.  I don’t know what that means, but I did it.  I found a melon that sounded significantly more hollow than the others and bought it. 

I got home with the melon, took it in the house.  Shortly thereafter Pastor Arland walked in from his office saying, it would be nice if we had some watermelon.  I smiled widely and said, “We do, Honey.  Look!”  I pointed at the big family size melon I had gotten.  We decided to have some that evening. 

After dinner, Arland turned on a baseball game and I began to carve up the melon.  I find it easier to cut the whole thing up and put it in a plastic container, just get all the messiness out of the way at once.  I piled some of the beautiful fruit on a plate to give my waiting husband, but decided to taste it first.  I did and was sorely disappointed.  The melon was not sweet.  It was like chewing water.  Of course, Arland had to test it himself to make sure I wasn’t just having an off taste-bud day.  His face confirmed my assessment.  There we were with a plate plus a gallon container full of tasteless watermelon.  What is one to do?

AGUA FRESCAS!!!  I filled the blender with watermelon ¾ of the way, ice the rest of the way, added water to reach a quarter of the height of the blender pitcher and added a touch of stevia.  The result was a cold and refreshing concoction that we poured in tall glasses and drank with straws….which took us from disappointment to delight in minutes.

Psalm 16:3 says that God’s delight is in those on this earth who choose to live for Him.  We are not perfect, but as with the tasteless watermelon, when we choose to add a bit of sweetness – godliness to our lives, we become delightful to Him.  Delightful to God!  How cool is that!  Honestly, I can’t think of anything I’d rather be.