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Dr. Agnes S. Thomas
As a hobby gardener, I dedicate most of my free time in the spring to my modest backyard garden. Since it is small, I know all the plants that return each year and approximately how long it takes for them to emerge. However, during this sprouting stage, I frequently poke and prod around the roots, sometimes even digging into the soil to check if they’re truly alive and thriving. While my intentions are good, sadly, my actions may inadvertently harm or impede their natural growth.
A recent conversation with a dear friend prompted me to reflect on how my gardening practices parallel many of our approaches to the dark and dry times in life when everything seems lifeless and devoid of vitality. My impulse to verify whether the plants will return isn’t merely driven by curiosity; it also stems from impatience and a lack of trust that it is truly alive because, to my human eye, there is no evidence to suggest otherwise. This tendency mirrors our reactions to challenging phases in life. When faced with adversity, we often overlook that we’ve navigated difficult times, emerged stronger, and gained valuable lessons from them. Yet, when we find ourselves in the ‘winters of life’— cold, dark, and seemingly endless — we become restless, irritable, and lose sight of the possibility of brighter days ahead. We easily forget the stages of renewal, the flowers that bloom, and the birds that return year after year.
The cycle of life, internally and externally, offers us an opportunity to indulge in the graciousness of our creator and to feel the care, faithfulness, and joys of His creation. It draws us closer to understanding the ever-evolving nature of our existence, where in some seasons we gather, and in others, we plant, rest, live, die, grieve, and rejoice (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8). These stages also remind us to remain patient and hopeful, even amidst life’s challenges, when no signs of life are visible because we can only see as far the eye can see. It also reminds us that the one who designed us carefully planned each of these events with intentionality and purpose. At times when we feel isolated, we should recognize the support of others, just as a garden flourishes with a variety of plants and trees, each unique in its own way.
The entirety of the earth is a masterpiece crafted to captivate our attention and encourage us to invest time in understanding its intricacies. In doing so, we recognize the lessons embedded within every line, shade, and color. In doing so, we become vibrant, fruit-bearing beings, expressing gratitude through our presence and way of life.
Nature is the best teacher of life’s lessons, and we tend to forget that we are also part of this bigger ecosystem. When we treat it as separate, there is imbalance and disquiet. Nature teaches us that we need to treat our little ones, like baby plants, with gentleness, care and patience, planting them in good soil, nourishing them, allowing sunshine and water so they can grow and reach their maximum potential and live up to their call to bear fruits and flowers for the rest of creation to admire and enjoy.
Similarly, like the mature plants and trees that endure the harshness of winter or dry seasons, we must care for ourselves and others with patience and compassion, knowing that we can rejuvenate and flourish amidst life’s challenges when surrounded by supportive homes and communities. In essence, we are all interconnected and called to serve and be each other’s keeper in the garden of life.
In short, the key lessons gathered from this garden season begin with patience and slowing down. Both allow us to tune into the inner voice of life unfolding beneath the dark earth, constantly and gently shaped by ‘the potter.’ We must also allow for and trust periods of rest and dormancy to create room for new growth. Despite discomfort and pain, some pruning ensures abundant and healthy fruiting.
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