If you would, stroll across the lawn with me. I have something I’d like to show you. It’s just around this corner here.
I’d like to give you a tour of my soul.
What’s that you say? “It’s just a garden”? Of course it looks like a garden! What else would you expect a soul to look like? But it’s not “just” anything. It’s one of the most precious things on earth.
I’m not out to compare gardens or even to show off what I’ve done with mine. My garden isn’t all that special, I just mean that every garden is sacred. You gaze upon hallowed ground. For this earth was set apart for a purpose by the Almighty. All dirt matters, but this dirt was especially prepared to bring forth fruit.
Of course, that’s not what you thought when you first saw it. You couldn’t help but notice the weeds. Yes, there are a lot. Weeding has been on my to-do list for a while. Every once in a while I make my way out here with my gloves and a bucket, and if I think of it, a trowel. But the work is tiresome, and perfect weeding weather always seems far too nice to waste bent over soil.
Besides there’s more than just dirt in this ground. It’s well-fertilized. It never ceases to amaze me how putrid animal filth can produce such luscious fruit. The stench when it’s fresh will steal your breath away. But any gardener will tell you it’s a necessary evil, a fact of life.
As if weeding and fertilizing weren’t trouble enough, every season is unpredictable. I only have so much control; I can’t cause the sun to shine or the rain to fall, or even stave off frost. Every season I have to trust again.
But even without the weeds and the dung and assuming the weather holds out, my work is never finished. Each season I sew my field anew with different crops in their proper time and proportion. I’ve been entrusted with various seeds—some for strawberries, others for corn, still others pumpkins or sugar snap peas. They are not all equally valuable, and the markets often boom and bust without warning. I need to choose what to invest my efforts in so that the most valuable fruit is available at the right time.
Of course I could go on and on about pest and pesticides, mice in the storeroom, and my neighbor across the way who sometimes lends me tools. But what am I saying? Your garden is no different. Where are my manners? Tell me, dear friend: how is your garden faring this season?