Gardening

I love flowers, but they don’t thrive beneath my touch. You might say I’m florally challenged. In the world of my dreams, my yard is graced with petals of glorious hues and heights. However, in my real world, my green space is inhabited by wild turkeys, roving deer and racing children. On most days, the three acres beyond my windows showcase a trampled beauty. 

On most days, I’m at peace with the bald spots on the lawn and headless stems in the flower beds. I have ENOUGH to keep alive without adding the burden of thriving flowers to my list.

But now and then, I need to remind myself that I’m tending to a different kind of beauty.

Each time I gaze wistfully at my neighbor’s lovely landscaping, I remember the story told by Harmon Killebrew during his induction into the Baseball Hall of Fame. Killebrew, who spoke fondly of his parents, recounted how one day he and his brother were out playing in the yard, and their mother got upset. “You’re tearing up the grass!” she complained.

To which Harmon’s dad replied, We’re not raising grass, we’re raising boys.

My yard may never boast candy-colored flower beds or lush green grass, but I’m not tending to precious blades and blooms. The garden that I nurture does not grow quickly.  It is weeded with prayer, watered with tears, and warmed by the Son. It requires me to get my hands dirty and to spend hours on my knees. I have no idea what colors will eventually bloom from each little sprout, but I pray that one day my garden will showcase the lasting beauty of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self control.

Then, with the dirt of motherhood still stuck beneath my finger nails, I will offer my Heavenly Father a treasured bouquet from the landscape of my life. And when I see Him face to face, I will thank Him for the privilege of tending to five growing souls in His Kingdom’s vast garden.

Today’s Treasure:  For you have been born again, not of perishable seed, but of imperishable, through the living and enduring word of God. For, all men are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall,  but the word of the Lord stands forever.  -I Peter 1:23-25