The Gardener

My husband, Eric, and I moved from Memphis to Denver three weeks after we were married. The draw - sprawling mountains with the promise of endless adventures. For the first six months of our lives together, we lived in a tiny, 500 square foot apartment with barely enough room to have a decent argument (like the one that happened after Eric walked in the door just having purchased a $200 pair of ski boots and a $50 pair of ski goggles for himself... with our wedding gift money.) Desperate for more space, we immediately began the building process for our new home.

Seven months after tying the knot, Eric and I became homeowners and parents to an adorable six week old yellow lab - all in one day. I had heard the same advice from about 87 people on our wedding day - "Buy a couple of plants first. If they are alive a year later, then buy a dog. If the dog is alive a year later, then you are ready to have kids." As I lay in bed the first night in our shiny new home, listening to the crying pup downstairs, I had a pang of fear and turned to Eric in panic - "I forgot to buy plants! We don't have any plants! What if I'm no good at this? Our dog is going to DIE!" Within several days, I had three beautiful, healthy green plants in decorative Crate & Barrel pottery, carefully placed in the sunniest rooms in the house. Two of the plants were dead within a few months.

My middle name is not Green Thumb. Eric and I have lived in several homes since our first house and I have only managed to keep about 10% of any plant I have planted (inside or out) alive. I haven't had a potted plant in my house in years. So when we got settled into our new rural home amongst the most fruitful, self-sustaining farmers and gardeners in the country, Eric about went into shock when I told him I wanted to plant a garden.

Wanting to embrace my new role as farmer's wife (I am an all or nothing kind of gal), I joyfully signed up for Gardening 101. I spoke to other gardeners for tips, read lots of books, and even learned how to can and preserve the fruits of my labor. Eric helped me build the garden bed. My older son, three at the time, helped plant the seeds and water the little plot of turned soil.

And the waiting began.

One week past... doubt crept in. Could I really pull this off? Two weeks past my planting, little sprouts finally emerged. I was elated. I was determined to be successful (especially after my husband lovingly told me, "Don't be disappointed if this doesn't turn out. It's your first time.") I had EVERYTHING to prove. I carefully tended to each seedling, packing soil around its delicate little stem and watered each one daily (I just so happened to start gardening during one of the worst droughts in twenty years.) I pulled every weed that poked its unwanted head out of the soil. This garden was MINE. I was its protector. Nothing was going to destroy it.

I used to think bunnies were cute. The morning I awoke to the little chewed nubs of my zucchini, pea and bean plants those furry little nuisances became my mortal enemy. Up went the fence around my garden. A couple of weeks later my garden was flourishing again, with my firstfruits of spinach and arugula. A salad never tasted so good! I really could do this whole gardening thing! By the end of the summer I had made 8 or 10 (I lost track) loaves of delicious zucchini bread and canned an abundance of tasty pasta and pizza sauce that lasted us through the winter.

(My latest homemade chunky garden pasta sauce using - get this -

 NINE veggies and herbs from my garden!)

 

 

I had impressed my husband, gained confidence in myself, and provided food for my family. God bore fruit in my life in more than one way.

God has taught me so much about His love for me through this whole gardening process. In John 15: 1-2, Jesus tells us "I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful." In verse 5 he elaborates "I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing."

NOTHING.

As I watered... as I pruned... as I grew fierce in my protectiveness for each little plant, God spoke directly into my heart - "This is how I love you, Heather." I wonder what He sees sometimes as He looks down on me. Some days I am perky and strong and bending towards His light. Other days I am wilting, drooping, my fruit in danger of becoming spoiled. I bet there are days when He sees me completely aloof to the danger around me... the days I forget to ask for His protection... but He is always fierce for me. Always.

I know with a fact that I had nothing to do with the prosperity of my garden. Gardens need water and sunlight or they cannot grow. I can provide neither of those things. I am only able to prosper when I remained attached to The Vine. He is my Living Water and Light of the world. Apart from Him I can do nothing. Like a piece of fruit that falls from its vine, I am dead the moment I pull away from Him. Subject to spoilage and disease. And even though at times His pruning process can be painful, I know that when friendships fade and circumstances change in my life, He is essentially cutting out the things that are taking too much energy from me, so that I can bear even more fruit.

What I really love, is that God was so incredibly awesome to create us in His image, then allow us to step into some of the roles He claims for Himself, so we can come to know Him better. Amen to that.

  Fruitful blessings

 For those of you who may have been concerned about the well being of our sweet dog, Zoya, the above photo was taken this past weekend on a hike in one of our favorite spots - Starved Rock State Park. She will be nine years old this November. I am very glad I didn't listen to that wedding advice... or I may just have never made it to this point in my life.