I come from a family of gardeners. My grandparents on my mother’s side had greenhouses and gardens (that the Nazis sometimes helped themselves to during the Second World War). My father loved to garden and watch things grow. His joy every evening was to walk in the garden with my mom. I’m discovering a love for gardening later in life, in part through my daughter Hannah, who seems to have caught the gardening gene. She loves native plants and refuses to call something a weed until she has seen what it is and decides for herself whether it is something she will keep (and move) or pull. She wants to know whether it is good for the birds, the bees, or the butterflies before she determines its fate based solely on its appearance or on her intention to plant it.
For Hannah’s recent birthday, I bought her a sign to hang in her garden, which says, “To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.” To be very honest, I might have bought that sign more for myself than for her. For me, it is a reminder that regardless of what is going on around me…regardless of the lack of control that I have for what is going on in the world, regardless of the lack of control for what is going on in my sphere of influence, regardless of the lack of control for what is going on in my own body…I have hope for tomorrow because I believe that God is in control. I believe that God is at work, therefore I believe in tomorrow.
And planting a garden is a reminder of that hope. When I see new plants peeking out of the ground, it’s a reminder of new life. When I go out to my garden to “subdue” it (Genesis 1:28), I am amazed at God’s generosity in giving so many seeds to plants that cause things to pop up everywhere. I’m amazed at God’s creativity, even in these weeds, since not all are equal. Some hold on. Some fight back. Some come away easily. Some sting. Yet even in the weeds, there is hope for tomorrow. What will spring up where and when and why and how?
And just like these plants growing in our garden, there are things that are growing in me. Some need to be observed. Some need to be tended to. Some need to be pulled. Some are putting down roots so deep that they are difficult to pull. Some hurt to pull.
Like Hannah, I want to be curious about the “weeds.” I want to wonder about them. I want to marvel at them (even if I still pull them). I want to have joy in the flowers and the vegetables, but I also want to see the entire ecosystem for what it is – the birds, the bees, the butterflies, the insects…all working together to bring something beautiful that is beyond my ability to create by myself.
In DML, we talk about the gardens that we have to tend to – our “person”al garden, our marriage garden, our family garden, our community garden, our church garden, our national garden. All require tending and weeding.
There is work to do in gardening. But this work can be done as an act of worship. And beyond the work, there is beauty. And there is hope for tomorrow.
Song of Songs 2:11-12 says, “For behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.” I pray for eyes that will see and ears that will hear this in our gardens, our lives, and in our hope for tomorrow.