Gardening is an instrument of grace. – May Sarton
Garden Grace
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Tag Archives: Lent
Reach
The beginning of a new year is a time to think about what is important, what needs to be done, who I am called to be. I like to ponder and come to those thoughts over a period of time, rather than my making resolutions on January 1. A good way for me to do that is to choose a word for focus.This year I choose the word Reach. LIke these tomato seedlings in my kitchen, I start where I am, break open my comfort zone, shed what is unnecessary for growth, and celebrate new opportunity in the present – all the while reaching toward the Light.
Recalibrating, relinquishing
Embracing this season of enough
Attentive and astonished
Called to this journey
Holy mystery
Markers
I have previously written about my love for feathers, how a long time I ago I began to recognize the finding of a feather as a small signal that God is present. Often when I pray for myself or others I pray for hiding under the shadow of His wing. It is very simple, I choose these tiny found objects as reminders of how God has been and will be with me. This is not the only reminder, there is evidence all around me in my home and garden. Recently as I was reading passages in the Old Testament which speak of the stone markers erected to remind both present and future generations of God’s help, I realized these and my feathers are doing the same thing – simply saying “remember!”
“Samuel took a large stone and placed it between the towns of Mizpah and Jeshanah. He named it Ebenezer—”the stone of help”—for he said, “Up to this point the Lord has helped us!” —1 Samuel 7:12, NLT
Here I raise mine Ebenezer;
hither by thy help I’m come;
and I hope, by thy good pleasure,
safely to arrive at home.
Jesus sought me when a stranger,
wandering from the fold of God;
he, to rescue me from danger,
interposed his precious blood. —Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing
Surviving
Gardens are such good storytellers! The climbing rose in this picture is on an arbor by our backyard fish pond. It is a Peggy Martin rose. For those who may have never heard this story, I will tell you it is named for the woman who grew it in her garden near New Orleans, along with hundreds of other roses before Hurricane Katrina. All the roses were under about 20′ of salt water for two weeks following the hurricane. When she was finally able to return to visit their property she found new growth on this one rose, all that remained. In the devastation she also lost her elderly parents, her home, and commercial fishing boat that her husband used to supplement their income. She didn’t even know the name of the rose since a cutting had been given to her by mother in law who had also been given a cutting.
Dr. Bill Welch from Texas A&M along with other antique rose experts and growers helped to get the newly named “Peggy Martin” rose into the marketplace where proceeds help restore gardens throughout the South devastated by Katrina and other forces of nature.
The story always makes me wonder what made this rose any different from the rest to give it the resilience and fortitude to say “I’m still here and growing better.” One thing has to be that its roots were stronger and deeper. I am still thinking about the fact that its cuttings root very easily…it is flexible and can handle change. The telling of all this has to include a theme of restoration, too. Out of the Martins’ great loss has come a way to help others.
What a good gardening story! Soul gardening, too.
Connections
John Muir said, “When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world.” This year the early blooming trees are particularly beautiful. Redbuds, Huisache, Plums, Bradford pears are a riot of purples and yellows and lacy whites along with still bare branches. When I go for a walk, I often find myself at a standstill, stopped in my tracks at the sight of one tree bursting with color. A turn of my head brings more flowering. The trees lead me to each other, all singing songs of fresh starts.
March 1 on a South Texas Country Road
March 1 on a South Texas Country Road
Winter palette fades.
Painted over by Springing.
Weary gray tinges green.
Bare branch silhouette
Softens, hazed in chartreuse fog.
Baby leaves split tight coats.
Shiny buds unfold
Clover, dandelion, moss
Each green different
Why call it Red Bud?
It’s lilac, pink, violet.
Purple vetch vines, twines.
Blue wood violet,
Saffron puffs of sweet Huisache
Fill air with fragrance.
Indian Paintbrush
Tiny torches start to blaze,
scatter scarlet flames.
Not yet showing bloom,
Bluebonnets, Crimson Clover
soon add to Spring’s song.
Bleak chill of winter
Gives way to resurrection,
melody of Life.
Ash Wednesday
In a journal from three years ago, I found thoughts about Ash Wednesday that are much the same I would write today. “Lent, Day 1. We are adding readings from Psalms to the few minutes we have before Joe leaves for work in the mornings. In all my Protestant years growing up, Lent was little recognized most of the time. I have grown in need and appreciation of these set apart days approaching Easter and in all my observation of the liturgical year. I crave the structure, need the framework for deepening spiritual sensitivity and awareness. So begins arranging days and heart and home in new awareness of Eastering.”
Crosses of ashes,
sign of beginning journey,
mark Lenten promise.
Growth Pushes Boundaries
The tree was there first, and by my own observation, grew slowly by the man-made brick wall. I have been walking by this corner for six years. A year ago, when the first cracks in mortar appeared, I barely noticed. Now, as bricks begin to crumble and fall, I know they never had a chance unless the tree died. The lesson for me is simply put: Growth pushes boundaries. I would rather grow.
Stones and Feathers 