Good Beet is a reflection of my values, hopes, and dreams — a place where my thoughts and feelings live in public view, for any seeker who may stumble upon them. But truthfully, it’s likely just for me — a quiet offering, something to leave behind.

The Beet chose me.

I’ve loved eating them for as long as I can remember. They’ve appeared in my dreams, vibrant and symbolic. The beet has roots in the Mediterranean, where I’ve traced some of my own ancestry — lands steeped in story, soil, and Scripture.

To me, the beet is more than food — it is heart and root combined. It embodies the grounding of the root and the tenderness of the heart, a union of stability and compassion. In this way, it mirrors the Christian life as I understand it: to be firmly rooted in faith, while remaining open, softened, and responsive to love.

Scripture often returns us to the language of planting — seeds scattered, soil tended, growth entrusted to God. “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth.” The beet speaks this same truth to me. A beet seed is not just one seed; it is a cluster — a community of future growth. A multi-germ vessel, many lives held together as one.

This is how I understand Goodness through faith: never solitary, never sterile, always multiplying when planted in receptive soil. Goodness grows when it is lived, shared, broken open, and offered back to God. Like the beet, it stains your hands. It leaves evidence. It cannot be hidden.

Good Beet is my small act of stewardship — a tending of what I’ve been given. A place to honor Goodness as something incarnational, earthy, and real. Faith lived not only in belief, but in cultivation.

If we are willing to plant it, God will do the growing.