annual, perennial, or weed.
If it blooms, I appreciate it.
But, I am not much of a gardener.
For as much as I enjoy flowers, I dislike the bugs, spiders, and especially snakes that find my flower beds cozy.
My handsome farmer values the edible fruit of the field and leaves the blooming folage to me; therefore I play at garden. I plant and give the flowerbeds over to God. -- You could say I go for the "natural" look (aka "overgrown").
With a passing glance, one cannot help but notice the stark contrast between the handsome farmer's neatly tended rows of green and my neglected attempt. There is no comparison.
I give my approval to the choice veggies he is planting and find myself meditating on how different we are. He is a simple man, and his mind looks a like his fields... orderly. My thoughts are everywhere... and weeds?
It takes time to pull weeds. row by row with dirty hands. deep roots. stubborn.
"Two things cannot be in one place. Where you tend a rose, a thistle cannot grow." — Frances Hodgson Burnett (The Secret Garden)
If I want a beautiful and orderly mind, I must brave the snakes, spiders, and such... hatred, bitterness, resentment, anger, envy, selfishness, greed... those creatures lurking behind leaves and under rocks ready to bite me.
... and tackle the weeds of fear, doubt, guilt, unpleasant memories to make room for faith, joy, thankfulness, peace, and grace.
I am a garden... becoming more beautiful as I am tended, patiently, deliberately, faithfully.
No comments:
Post a Comment