Several years ago when we considered renting our present farm property, there were basically three stipulations: the chickens, the dogs and the garden. The first two caused us pause: did we really want the commitment of watering and feeding farm animals twice a day? When we got past our sense of ‘being tied down’, we realized the commitment level was minimal and very do-able.
The third stipulation was a no-brainer. We knew how to mow the lawn and keep the embankment of four lily plants tidy. But as time went on, the four lily plants began to be surrounded by other plants, many of them coming to us as a last ditch effort for their survival. It seemed that balcony living wasn’t ‘their thing’; so we tenderly relieved them of their ceramic shells and found places in-between the lily plants.
Two of our plants were cuttings from our son’s garden: daisies and a beautiful lilac-colored flowering bush. (I have no idea its name!) Much to our delight, we found they both blossomed uninhibited in our farm soil and reseeded themselves in places unplanned by us.
About the same time all of this creative energy was going on, we had a small piece of dirt right by our deck that needed ‘something’ so the farm manager gave us six small daisy plants of another variety. That first year, they grew enough to be broken up and become a second row for our second summer. At the end of that summer, we divided them again and started dotting the embankment of lily plants. Several years later, they have become a hedge by the deck, towering bushes on the embankment and pockets of simple beauty gracing a section at the front of our house that didn’t have ‘much going for it’.
We’ve been here seven years now. We like sitting on our deck in the cool of the evening, taking in all the beauty…or enjoying a morning cup of coffee amongst terra-cotta pots of red geraniums, a blue wicker basket of ivy and Million Bells of various colors, a nasturtium plant in a plastic tub nearby and cherry tomatoes ripening on the vine for the ‘pickin’ as we pass by. Time, labor, nutrients, sun, water. No quick process….but the end result beauty you can’t buy!
And that’s the thought that’s captured my attention this summer…it’s taken a lifetime of gardening for me to become a garden of beauty. God tending…me responding. I’d like it to be “Miracle Gro” but it’s not. It’s a process that requires seasons, soil cultivation, weeding, pruning…interspersed with strong doses of encouragement, acceptance, love. It would seem God is in no hurry…what He’s working towards is beauty that doesn’t fade or wither with time, is vibrant with color and life despite the climate.
I find this process of time comforting rather than chafing. It helps me understand Psalm 92:14:
“They shall still bear fruit in old age; they shall be fresh and flourishing.”
I’m in that category of “old age”; and I find my fruit has a different quality to it now: it seems more quiet, restful, trusting. Do I say: more mature? The years of “God tending…me responding” have produced those kind of blooms. In that process, I’ve learned to discern my cycles and God’s cultivating tools, my weeds and God’s pruning. I’ve learned to let Him go deep into my layers and get to my unhealthy roots. I’ve learned that there He heals, creating a new root system that bears in me healthy fruit.
Yes, in the end, we are His handiwork. His aim is that in old age we flourish with His freshness. A lifetime process. So settle-in and let Him create His garden in you.
Yes, in the end, we are His handiwork. His aim is that in old age we flourish with His freshness. A lifetime process. So settle-in and let Him create His garden in you.
Marcia
