When Abundance Becomes a Challenge: Living with More Than We Planned
As we continued listening to the land and responding to what grew willingly, abundance began to show up in ways we hadn’t anticipated.
In particular, it arrived in the form of pawpaws.
My husband developed a genuine love affair with this fruit—the largest native fruit in North America, with a flavor often described as a cross between mango and banana, with a custard texture. Some pawpaw trees were already present on the property, and others he planted intentionally to increase diversity. Over time, that number grew until we realized we had nearly a hundred pawpaw trees either growing or coming into maturity.
He was delighted.
I was… more cautious.
Pawpaws are particular. They need to be eaten at just the right moment of ripeness. Too early, and they have a bitter twang. Too late, and they’re past their prime. You literally have to wait for them to fall off the tree when you give the trunk a nudge or of their own accord. They don’t ship well. They don’t store well. And while they’re beloved by those who know them, they aren’t exactly a grab-and-go fruit.
As his enthusiasm grew with each passing season, so did my questions.
What do you do with pawpaws from dozens—eventually hundreds—of trees?
He imagined inviting friends out to harvest. Sharing the fruit. Celebrating the uniqueness of it. I found myself quietly researching recipes, preservation methods, and storage options, wondering how abundance had suddenly become a logistical puzzle.
This was a new lesson from the land.
Provision had felt simple.
Abundance required discernment.
The land wasn’t just offering us food—it was inviting us into relationship with others. Into generosity. Into creativity. Into community.
It became clear that abundance isn’t meant to be hoarded or perfectly managed. It often asks to be shared, even when sharing feels inconvenient or unfinished.
Perhaps one day we’ll host a pawpaw gathering each August. Maybe it will become a small festival. Or maybe abundance will keep changing shape, asking new questions each year.
What I’ve learned is this: sacred partnership with the land doesn’t stop at receiving. It continues into how we respond when more arrives than we expected.
Abundance stretches us.
And that stretching, too, is part of the gift.
Something to Ponder
Sometimes the challenge isn’t scarcity—it’s discernment.
When more shows up than we planned for, we’re invited to ask not just how to manage it, but who it’s meant to bless.
Series Note
This post is part of the Listening to the Land: Sacred Partnership series. You can explore the full series here.
An Invitation
If you’re navigating questions around abundance—whether with land, creativity, or life direction—and would like a gentle space to talk through what’s emerging, I offer a free 20-minute alignment conversation.
These conversations are simply a place to listen together, notice what feels alive, and discern what partnership might look like in this season—without pressure or obligation.
You’re welcome to schedule one if it feels supportive.
