I have found great peace in gardening. It took me close to 3 months to breathe that deep breath of satisfaction of "It is finished!" And of course, by finished, I mean just the beginning. Once the plants are in place, the signs are marked, and the watering begins, the plants begin to grow.
Before I sat down to write, I decided to see what my flip calendar's inspirational quote was for today. My husband usually has to update it for me, and today was no different. I hadn't even glanced at it since June 1st. But today's seemed fitting. Especially as I sit curled up under my covers, listening to the rain pelt my window, and the thunder boom around me. I'm breathing deep, going to that peaceful moment, where I simply say "Lord, here I am. It's not much, but I know it's enough."
Does anyone else feel like this? Maybe I'm on my own, here, but I feel like I'm in a constant battle. The battle to soldier on for God, and the battle to selfishly retreat, curl up in a ball, and say "I'm done." The past 3 months have been a whirlwind. I have watched children of God give up. Retreat, and say "I'm DONE!" It defeated me. If we're being completely honest, I have ugly cried more in the past 3 months, than I'd care to admit. This soldiering stuff is hard. I've also watched children of God suit up. They ALLOWED the enemy to pelt them with piercing daggers. They winced in pain, and kept marching. They gave up control, and watched people RUN towards the cross. All because of the strength of their testimony.
As I've been in this whirlwind, my peace, and my comfort?
All of this. A growing garden, and growing babies. My house that has been deep cleaned, imploded on itself, and deep cleaned again. A husband that loves, unconditionally. One who suits up, works hard, and still finds time to invest in us.
This garden is where I come when the day is too hard. Watering plants gives. me. peace. Because I know I'm nourishing something. In a world that tries to choke us into distraction, I retreat to this garden, and find life. And yesterday, as the dishes were piled up, and the laundry was growing legs and arms, I stopped, and made signs for my garden. Because while I'm giving life to these plants, why not speak life, also?
My potatoes are growing (like crazy!).
These tomato plants smell heavenly. I planted spicy globe basil around them, to get rid of insects, so it smells like a pizza shop in New York. I learned that trick from a very Godly woman, who is an expert gardener. My old neighbor, Michele.
These chives came all the way from Iowa! My uncle Ray who grows spinach leaves as big as my hand, packed these beauties in an old ice cream container, and sent me on my way, after a very FULL weekend of destroying my van (I hit a deer. The Iowa kind. Aka: HUGE.), throwing a surprise party for my Great Grandma, and finally journeying home with my Momma, and 5 kiddos.
A tribute to my Handsome Man. A pepper palace to support his love for all things HOT. The boys have loved watching them get bigger and bigger! And I just can't wait to make our first batch of salsa, with these beauties.
Potatoes again! Purple and white! Last time I grew purple potatoes, I sliced them very thinly, and made purple potato chips. Mark chuckled, as I bounced up and down in excitement: "But babe, THEY'RE PURPLE!!! How stinking CUTE IS THAT!?!?!" "It's cute! Can we eat them now?" He asked playfully.
The bell peppers, and the one that Daylon discovered. The PURPLE one! My absolute favorite color, and the one I cannot WAIT to put in my colorful salsa!!!
A simple garden, by a simple man and woman.
But it's growing.
By the grace of God, some great mushroom compost, so Jobe's plant food, and water, it's growing.
And honestly, if it hadn't been growing these past 3 months, I probably would've just given up watering it.
I guess that's my whole point:
How quick are we, as children of God, to give up? When we feel we aren't growing, and as our dry soul is begging to be quenched by the water, only God can give. How soon do we say "I'm done."
Equally, someone on the brink of knowing there is something bigger.
You can feel it. And as you gingerly put your big toe into the proverbial stream of belief of a God that is there, a Savior that is His Son, how quick are you to retreat? To draw back, at the first sound of an attack. Only to say in disbelief "See. Why would God do this? I knew it was safer not even thinking about this whole "Christianity" thing."
But that's just it:
Retreating yourself, versus allowing God to say "Take a break.", is the catalyst in anyone's life, where you either run away from God, or run to His rest. When we retreat ourselves, we miss out on the blessing of watching God fight for us. We gave up too soon. When we allow Him to say "Take a break." we see full circle the reason we are going through, whatever it is we're going through.
My "Take a break" has been my garden, and as it has slowly proved itself, I've been able to find joy in the middle of this chaos.
It used to be that I would control the situation. On more than one occasion, I took off my wedding rings, threw them at my husband, and said "I'm done!" I'd storm out of our first starter home, go to the back yard, adjacent to a growing field, and cry.
"I can't do this anymore, God! I said forever, but now I'm DONE. I made a mistake! I don't know what I want, but it's not THIS."
Me, reasoning with God, myself, justifying, angry, and not wanting to be consoled.
My heart burning in anger. My eyes burning from the salt of my tears. My throat aching as I tried to hold back crying.
The gentle breeze coaxing me to relax. To allow the cool breeze to aid in cooling my temper. Breathing deep, the smells of wheat growing, and fresh cut grass. I would clench my eyes shut, not wanting to believe that it would get better from there. "Knowing" that I could survive. I had done it before, why was this any different?
Then, as my words continuously spun through my head in a whirlwind, I allowed my eyes to open. Slowly, at first, allowing the light to adjust. My eyes would focus on two pieces of silver.
An engagement ring, and wedding band held firmly into the hand of an extended arm.
His long legs crossed, as he sat across from me, and his dark eyebrows furrowed, as he stared directly into my eyes.
"I said forever, Sierra. And I meant it. That's why I gave you these," he said, softly.
I took them back, and they glided onto my fingers as easily, as they did when I told him "I do."
Tears streamed down my face, as I said "I meant it, too."
A simple exchange, from two simple people.
I think back to then, "then" being 7 years ago. Our exchanges now are less of me throwing my rings, and more of us feeling the old cycle beginning, we both will draw back, as not to hurt each other. Then a few minutes later, come back together, agreeing that it was an attack, and it was not welcome in our marriage.
That's what I would consider growth.
Two shattered individuals picking up their own pieces, and shards of each other, carrying them to the foot of the cross, and saying "Lord, here we are. We're not much, but we know it's enough."
And as faithful as He was to make our paths cross, to take our brokenness, and turn into into something that could be used for His kingdom, He faithfully sews seeds into our hearts. He waters them, and delights in watching them grow. He plucks the weeds out of our soul that do not please Him.
Our selfishness,
Our pride,
Our reluctance,
Our fear.
He casts them away, and continues sewing seeds. He calls us His, and asks for our obedience.
"I will follow You, Lord."
Because if we allow the weed of fear into our heart, it will choke out our passions, our love, our excitement, our desires.
Fear is debilitating. But fear in God?
Liberating.
I've felt God speak two words, for the past month. I've brushed it off, in an effort to ignore His calling, allowing my fears to take over.
Be obedient.
Two simple words, for a simple woman.
Those two words spoken to my 19 year old, freshly married self, would have sent me into a tizzy. One full of arguing, justification, and resistance.
Now?
I silence myself, and say:
"I'll follow You, Lord."
I don't know where it'll lead, or what He's calling me too, but now, I don't care. I know He'll tell me when to suit up, and when to sit down. He'll retreat me, when I'm weary, and He'll revive me, when I need to march. He's stirring desires in my heart, that will make me "put myself out there", if you will. And to be hones, I'm scared. But I can quickly choose to to turn that fear into a fire. One that will cause me to fall more in love with Him, my husband, and my children. I trust that. I believe that.
That's growth.
Keep marching.
P.S. If you have any questions about the garden I'm growing, or the one He's growing in me, feel free to ask.
