Confessions of a reluctant gardener
I am not a gardener. I lack the necessary patience and I frequently remember to water things only when they are shrivelling – by which time it is often too late. However, over the past three months, without my usual routine of sermons, meetings, pastoral needs and diary dates to guide me – I have done a fair bit of it. I have dug and hoed and clipped and weeded and brought some degree of order to the chaos.
Keen to put something in the newly cleared soil, my eyes lighted on the ‘forlorn’ shelf at the local garden center. Somehow it didn’t seem worth paying full price for plants which would have to endure my less than diligent husbandry! One of my purchases was a little rose bush, no more than 10cm tall. There were no blooms, or even buds on it, but the foliage looked healthy enough.
I planted it, and have watered it every day since. Apart from that, and weeding around it – there has been little else I could do. I could not make it grow, or bloom – only do my bit to give it the best chance. On Monday this week, a tiny bud unfurled into the flower you see below. I have to confess that I am ridiculously, exaggeratedly, and indeed unjustifiably proud of it:
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To me, this little flower speaks volumes about these past three months. I care about smaller things, my pace has slowed to that in other parts of creation, and I have learnt to admire more those things which only God can do. Growth – whether in a flower, a church or an individual’s faith, is a God-driven miracle; and we are privileged even to watch it.
I only hope I can retain those things when I leave garden and rose behind for the church and its needs tomorrow.
