Pulling Weeds, Planting Seeds

When I was a little girl I had to help my Daddy in his garden. I always hated it. I thought, “Why don’t you just go to the grocery store?” I thought I would grow up, get a great job and not have to worry about having to grow my own food.

Now, I want to garden. I want to put my bare hands in the thick, rich, dark soil and watch something grow. Watch something produce. Watch something flourish.

There is something therapeutic and spiritual about gardening. I just never realized it until now. My life was too cluttered with busy things. Things I thought were immensely important at the time. Things I now know just distracted me. Things that didn’t feed my mind, didn’t feed my soul.

I am pulling those weeds. I’ve reached my bare hands down deep in my rich soil and plucked out the most invasive of those weeds. Like a good gardener, I didn’t compost them. I don’t want them to come back.

I think I’ll be pulling weeds the rest of my life. I know that. I’ve got to deal with the weeds that you aren’t really sure whether they are weeds or flowers. These are the toughest.

Now, I’m planting seeds. I’m planting seeds of love, seeds of life, and seeds of faith. I know with care, time and encouragement, these seeds will grow and produce wonderful things. I know they’ll feed me. They’ll help me grow as a person, wife, and mother.

I now understand a lot more about why my Daddy gardened. The things you grow in your garden can not be found in any grocery store.