LESSONS IN THE GARDEN

            THE GARDEN IS HALF EMPTY

As  a kid I didn't get it.  Mom and Dad would head out to the garden as if they were going somewhere exciting.  They would comment on the various vegetable's progress and then try to get us to enjoy helping.  We didn't bite.  But we sure enjoyed the fresh squash and onions, black eyed peas, tomatoes and peppers.  I remember plucking tomatoes off the vine and eating them like apples. 


Today I drove into the driveway of my childhood home.  The gardens are green with rows of peas, okra, tomatoes and squash.  But this year is different.  Dad didn't till the garden-  Mom paid someone.   Half of the team is missing.  The emptiness is palpable; the longing for his presence in that moment indescribable.
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LESSONS IN THE GARDEN

HOLDING ONE ANOTHER UP


I have this amazing flowering bush in my shade garden.  It's one of my favorite plants.  I got it when it was a little stick in a bucket.; having looked for one for a long time.  The common name is "American Beauty Berry."   I even love the name!  This interesting, rather nondescript bush in the summer has pale green leaves and long thin branches.  The bush is an Understory, meaning it lives under taller trees for protection from the hot sun, but the branches reach to the light in the fall, producing magnificent clusters of grape like berries.

This year, it is covered in so many clusters; the weight of the berries are almost too much for the long thin branches to handle.  Some of them have begun to touch the ground.

One day as my husband was cutting some dead branches from the tree that shades the garden, I noticed one that was sort of Y shaped.  It occurred to me that I might use it to support this top- heavy bush, lifting it's pretty flowers back up from the ground. 

As I was shoving the support under the bush and pushing the Y portion into a perfect "holding" spot, it occurred to me that we are not so unlike that bush. We grow from roots where we are planted.  Sometimes we flower beautifully,  surprising others with the bounty of our harvest. 

 But like the Beauty Berry, I often find that my "branches" are weak; and I bend under the weight of even the beautiful parts of my life.  And sometimes my support doesn't come from what seems to be the strongest or most obvious.  It comes from the experienced.  The ones who have lived a good life; a faithful and loving life.  And just because they are no longer the biggest tree in the garden, or may no longer be living in this garden, doesn't mean they are not my support.  The ones who lift me up.  To these warriors I am thankful.

LESSONS IN THE GARDEN 15

1. COUNTRY ROADS

I recently took a road trip through the country to visit my daughter and her family in Austin TX.  As expected, the further I got from the city, the calmer my spirit. 

I anticipated the grand display of bluebonnets that we love in the Spring.  What I had forgotten was the proliferation of "mustard grass".  It is a kind of wiry, bushy plant with mustard yellow flowers that look pretty in masses from a distance.  It was brought to the south several years ago from somewhere else because someone thought it attractive.  It has since taken over many of the fields and country sides, choking out the native plants.

There were miles and miles of highway flaunting the mustard grass along their roadsides.  What was missing?  The bluebonnets and  Indian paint brushes we Texans love.  The mustard grass had taken their places, drinking their water and utilizing their minerals from the soil.  I felt kind of sad.

As I neared Austin, the bluebonnets appeared in all their glory-with no mustard grass in sight.

I thought about how we thrive in the places we belong-in our healthy relationships,in  our work we enjoy and in places we feel useful.  And  how sometimes we feel choked out-by expectations (our own and others), by unhealthy relationships and by work that isn't designed for us.  Like the mustard grass, some things are pretty from a distance, but may look different up close.  And sometimes those things should be left where they belong-allowing us to flourish where we are meant to be.

LESSONS IN THE GARDEN 12

     WHEN THE PLANTING IS COMPLETE-WHAT THEN?

The other day I planted two tomato plants-same size, same kind, same flower bed.  I chose the bed that gets the most sun, mulched around the plants and watered them.  A few days later we had a cold front come in-cold for Texas.  It got down to the upper thirties.  Within three days, one began to shed it's leaves.  The other looked fine.  Why did one plant survive the stress, but the other did not?  What did the stronger plant have that made it more resilient?

Today I sat with someone as she talked about the loss of someone she loved.  We talked about alcoholism and drug use-about choices made and genetic predisposition.  We pondered the idea that we are all equipped differently-genetically, psychologically, emotionally.  We have different experiences to draw from; different relationships that strengthen or weaken us.  Some of us are more resilient in a given situation than others.  Why?  Is that not a mystery of being human?

Just maybe the tomatoes can teach us something.

UNLESS YOU BECOME AS LITTLE CHILDREN

"Truly I tell you, unless you become as little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."   Mathew 13:8

When I was in the throws of raising my children, I had mixed thoughts about this verse.  While watching them sleep I'd think, "Oh, it's the innocence Jesus was talking about."  Or when they would show up with a wildflower in their little hand, I would think of generosity, love of nature, spontaneity...But when they were two and everything became, "MINE! or NO!", I would wonder what He was thinking.  As my daughter so succinctly put it, "Anyone who doesn't believe in Original Sin never had a two year old!" 

Becoming a grandparent (times four in one year) sort of brought this verse to a whole new level.  We have rediscovered the joy of being a child.  When our girls are with us, they take joy in the moment-every ball thrown, dog walked, dolly dressed.  They lavish us with hugs, kisses and giggles.  We are the center of their world for that moment.  

When baby Davis is with us, he is the center of our world.  Every little gurgle, stretch, yawn is the most import one since Jesus was born!  Each little advance in his growing is worth taking note of.

Could it be that He wants to be the center of our world?  That He wants to lavish us with hugs?  That we are so important that each step we take is celebrated or grieved?

Oh yes, let us become as little children.

HEAR ME

I love words.  The sounds of them, the way they fit together to describe something or impart an idea.  I love them sung, spoken, written, played with, laughed at, cried with....to me they are a large part of what makes us human.  

I have always thought of language as a learned tool for communication.  We "teach" our kids to talk.  We learn grammar.  There are accepted or "proper" ways of speaking, formal speeches, informal conversations, and so on.  It wasn't until my oldest child was in college and discovered his passion for linguistics that I was introduced to the concept that language is something we are "programmed" to do.  Now  I know I do not understand even a small portion of the things that Chris has described in his discussions of language, but I am beginning to see that what I thought was a subject that had to be taught,  may actually be a gift in our design.

  Our eight week old grandson has discovered his voice.  How does that discovery of making sound evolve into spoken language?  That is my son's expertise.  My wonder is in the voice itself-that innate desire to be heard.

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DROPPED SEEDS

As long as I can remember, my mom has anticipated Spring with great enthusiasm.  She watches for her jonquils to poke their heads up and proclaim that winter is almost over.  Our gardens provide a sanctuary, a place where expected-and unexpected things happen.  We expect our spring bulbs to show up and announce the coming of Spring and our roses to bloom each year.  We anticipate the fragrance of freshly cut grass and cypress mulch. The Doves return with their beautiful songs and remind us that "mating for life" is a beautiful thing.

The garden is also a place of unexpected surprises.  One of my favorites is the larkspur that showed up near my bench-from seed dropped by someone other than me-a bird?  the wind?  Another is the Greek oregano that finds a new place to root itself every year.

Family is kind of like that-a place of expected and unexpected blessings.  

I expect to have Christmas with my family every year sometime before the actual day.  We all have our usual places to sit and the youngest opens first.  That's our tradition-I look forward to that night the way Mom looks forward to her jonquils.

I expected our kids to grow into kind, productive adults because we worked hard to sow seeds of kindness, faith, and hard work into their lives. We prayed fervently.  And I marvel at who they have become.  

But like the garden, the seeds that were dropped unintentionally have grown into the most beautiful blessings.  The people who touched our kids-teachers, friends, family-in ways that nurtured their souls and kindled their hearts.  The unplanned conversations in the car that brought us together.  The church family and friends who helped to parent and teach each others children.   Their dad's unique sense of humor and his incredible gift of seeing the truth in turbulence.  For these I am thankful.

When I put my grand daughter to bed one night, she wanted to  sing, "He's Still Working on Me."  I sang it with her-as I had with her Mom so many years ago.  Seeds of blessing.