The last couple summers, I have enjoyed having a small garden, and this summer I even added a few new plant babies to the garden to try out. I have been daily surprised by the lessons to be learned in the garden.
The garden takes time — no matter how fast I want to harvest my herbs and veggies, I must be patient. If I begin harvesting too soon, I won’t have as much for the season. Waiting is good.
There is a simplicity in the garden — water, sunshine, soil, and seeds. Those four simple yet profoundly miraculous elements join together to burst into plants. I love these four elements — getting to hold the seeds in my hand, digging in the dirt, feeling the sunshine as I visit the garden, and drenching the plant with refreshing water. I don’t think I’ll ever lose wonder in witnessing seedlings burst through the soil.
Plants require growing and pruning — sometimes I find spots in my garden that look like they have died, and in a last ditch effort, I prune away what is dead and hope for new life. And so often, that spurt of life comes once the dead parts have been pruned.
The garden requires work — though I sometimes wish I could plant the seeds in the pots and come back a few weeks later with a bountiful harvest, that’s not how it works. Tending to the garden is a daily act for me, a liturgy of my life that often brings me joy but also takes time and effort.
Much of the work of the garden happens beneath the surface — without the deep roots and transformation beneath the soil, the plants would not thrive or produce much fruit. That work beneath the surface is simply miraculous.
The garden needs a home to thrive— midwest summer are full of more ups and downs in temperature, rain, humidity, and everything under the snow. I cannot control the weather, try as I might, and I just have to make the best of what the weather gives the garden.
So all that to say, my garden is a tender place for me where I am not only learning about the beautiful simplicity of plants but also about the beautiful simplicity of tending to my soul, tending to what’s beneath the surface, allowing the Lord to nourish me and bring forth growth. Oh how thankful I am for this place to experience God’s presence so tangibly.
