Weed & Water

By Jerry Mack Grubbs
 
We have had a family garden since 2002. I forget which day is my assigned day to weed and water but if I were there by assignment only, I wouldn't be involved anyway. Growing up I spent enough hours in a garden against my wishes. As a young boy, gardening and other unpleasant chores created an atmosphere that stimulated my imagination. Whether I was hoeing in the garden, shelling peas or washing canning jars, my hands would be doing the assigned task but my mind would be far away.

I find the same thing happening now in the garden. As I water and weed the rows, I allow my mind to wander to different times and places. I think of times spent in the garden with those I love. I think of things we talked about. I reflect on the first sprouting of new plants as I witnessed the miracle of a seed. I remember the first ear of ripe corn eaten raw right off the stalk. I also use this garden time to contemplate the challenges and opportunities that are before me. As an adult, the time spent in the garden isn't dreaded. It is actually therapeutic for me.

Just as life has its challenges, we have had problems with our garden seeds spouting this year. Some rows of corn have been planted three times and we still do not have a satisfactory showing. The sparse growth hasn't dampened my desire to spend time in the garden. But maybe I have been doing too much daydreaming and to little weeding these past weeks because the weeds were getting out of control.

Today I put on my gloves, picked up my hoe and went to work. My neighbor dropped by and with a chuckle said, "Looks like you've lost your touch, Grubbs." He often struggles with his garden and has always claimed that our family garden puts his garden to shame. I never thought about feeling shame over a garden, nor did his disparaging comment make me feel uncomfortable or resentful. I knew his heart and he would never intentionally wound me; we enjoy chiding one another.

The hoe is a marvelous tool that allows you to do much of the weeding in a standing position instead of bent over. But when the weeds are close to the tender garden plants it is necessary to get down on the ground and pull those weeds by hand. Today, grabbing weeds by the handfuls, I inadvertently pulled a bean plant. It wasn't a very big plant, scrawny compared to the other plants in the row. Saddened by my mistake and realizing that every plant was precious because of our sparse sprouting experience this year, I quickly pushed the bare roots of the bean plant back into the damp soil all the time knowing that it would not survive. It's like jerking a child out of the womb before it is mature enough to survive and quickly replacing it after the umbilical cord has been severed. Or taking a newborn nursing pup away from its mother before it has learned to eat other food.

The earth serves as a substitute mother to that bean plant. Without the nourishment that the earth provides, the plant cannot survive. I want that bean plant to do more than just survive. I want it to flourish, blossom and produce beans to be enjoyed by those who share the garden; thus, fulfilling the measure of its creation. Just like the bean plant, we as human beings need to do more than just survive; we need to flourish also.

This week I read a book about the child foster care system. It was about a boy who was born in prison and remained in the foster care program until his eighteenth birthday. It was disheartening to think of one child suffering as he did but all the while knowing that there are thousands of children out there in similar circumstances. Reading the book caused me to want to gather my loved ones close and just hold them. I am thankful for the opportunities I have to be weeded and watered by those who care about me. There are certainly times when I am daydreaming and probably don't give as much in return. Regardless of that fact, I am grateful for the garden I live in and the tender love and concern that is shown me. My daydreaming these days is often directed toward those I hold most dear. Thank you for being patient with me as I learn to be a better person. Thank you for the love that is expressed in so many ways.

Please don't mistaken me for a weed and cast me out of your garden. I'm still trying to blossom. In some ways I'm just a scrawny bean plant trying to catch up with the rest of you as we grow in the garden of life.