Growing a Garden and a Faithful Heart

 

I LOVE gardening. Before the birth of any of my children I would spend entire days in the yard. I went through a season where, because of my choices for happiness, I couldn’t garden. While those two years held some of my darkest moments all on their own, not being able to dig in the dirt made me sink into a sadness that I didn’t know was inside of me. My sweet husband built me garden boxes to put in front of our townhouse and I filled them with Belles of Ireland, Nasturtiums, Shasta Daisies, Sweet Peas…more. Everyday they made me smile.

Then we spent $30 that we didn’t have on a community garden plot for the good of my soul as much as the good of our grocery budget. I was in gardening heaven! I had a 25×25 foot plot and I filled it. As in; there was barely room to put your feet between the plants. I gardened here for three summers and I have to say the intentionality with which I gardened rebuilt the gardener inside of me. I grew tomatoes and basil, watermelon, onions, and friendships. I learned patience and peacefulness from the old men who came to the plot early in the mornings to water and weed in the quiet (little did they know my 5 and 2 year old children were already there running in the wet grass and squealing with excitement if they found a caterpillar!). I learned from the moms who drug their toddlers into the gardens mid-morning, that I am not alone in this mothering journey, that if I were bold enough I could (gasp) speak to them and possibly make a friend. I learned persistence from the people who came to harvest at the end of their work day, pulling muck boots on with suits and skirts. These people were dedicated to their piece of land, even if it meant squeezing the time in between work and the dinner table.

I’ve gardened a few other places, but really came into my own five summers ago when we bought our current home. See, I left a house that I didn’t necessarily love, but a yard that I had filled with part of my soul. I was excited to have the yard I have now, but I was nearly heartbroken to leave my plants…it sounds lame, I know. We moved in February with no idea what our new yard would look like. I sat in my van in front of the plants I was leaving and I cried. Then I prayed and I continued my prayer for months. I had recently decided that God was actually in charge of my life and that I was done ummm, lets go with messing it up. So I told God that I trusted Him to provide plants for me in my new yard. I silently begged for garden beds brimming with blooms. I humbly asked for even a few flowering plants to nurture. I even prayed that if the yard had no plants, the craigslist ads for free flowers would abound when the time was right.

Over the next four months I cleaned and painted and ripped cabinets off walls. There was a lot of work to be done on our new-to-us house. God met needs I didn’t really even know that I had over that time. I have a vivid memory of my husband being amazed at some thing that I found. He said, “I know God loves us all, but He must REALLY, REALLY love you!” I grinned from ear to ear knowing in the saddest part of my heart that this was true. Then spring came…

Months of asking for any matter of growing things and trusting that there would be something were about to prove fruitful. Plants began showing up in the shady back yard. All over the back yard actually. I took my shovel and began to dig out beds in the sunny front yard. I hauled turf to the back where it could break down, then I built hills in the beds that I was creating, then I built up a big garden bed by a tree with more sod from the front. I moved a lot of earth because there were SO many plants. I was absolutely overwhelmed with Gods kindness toward me. I dug out daisies, wild ditch lilies, lilacs, an insane number of peonies, though I didn’t even know that’s what they were until they flowered. My neighbor from down the road gave me a clump of comfrey, primroses, and tomatoes. I dug a vegetable patch in the back yard. My neighbors next door absolutely thought I was insane. They came over and laughed, actually laughed at me. They told me years ago there had been roses, Asiatic lilies, dogwood…So I looked.

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The second summer I found the roses, moved the lilies, and literally tripped over the dogwood. I continued to trust that God was in control of all of my life. That He cared deeply about my day to day. I know that Gods goal is not just my happiness, He wants me to search after Him with all of my heart and soul. He doesn’t need to lavish His love on me, but I believe that He wants to. He wanted to remind me that there was good for me still. That even though I had been lost and I had made bad choices, there was nothing that I could do to remove myself from His love. Each summer since we moved in I have found new plants, something that was not growing the year before. I have had to work for these gifts. The number of hours I spent with a shovel underfoot can not be counted. In this garden I have built the soil, built muscles, and built my faith and trust in God.

Looking back I can see that these years of trust, love, and flower blossoms are Gods love letter to me. Gardening has been the way God has lured my heart back to His. The way He has kept me close by His side. The way He keeps me looking to Him for provision and the care I will need. While the sea calls to a place deep inside of me, in the earth is where I am at peace with Christ and I know that in the garden is the place I belong.

 

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