I learned a lesson today. Even as I type, I feel the pain of that lesson. And I’ll continue to feel it until I’m done learning.
As mentioned before, weeds are something like a mortal enemy for me. I try to take good care of my garden and weed daily. Getting rid of the things that I did not intend to be there, pulling them up – root and all. Because we all know that if you don’t get the root too, there is no point in pulling the weed.
One day you’ll notice a weed. Ignoring it, you’ll see that weed grow. Then that weed multiplies. It begins to spread. You decide to pick at it to get it out of your eyesight. No matter how many times you might pull the green leaves off, the weed continues to come back and grows larger. It takes over.
Over the last couple of weeks I have grown *cough* busy? I’m sure I had moments to spare outside, but the half hour of watering twice a day seemed to be enough, and I couldn’t get my “paid” work done as is. The weather got too warm as the sun came out and my skin began to sunburn. I stayed away. I ignored those weeds I had been picking daily. Today I opted to wake up and head straight outside to hit the coolness of the morning. I’d told Nick that I had a dream that the weeds had taken over my garden with the last rain. Don’t be silly – your garden is fine. Yah, that’s not what I was thinking as I strolled out under the heavy layer of fog that settled on the city this morning. Horrified would be a good word. All of that lovely rain and lighting HAD sprouted the weeds even more that I had let them in the first place. I can’t blame it on the rain though. It was my fault. I messed up. I hate to admit it, but I could have prevented it.
Poor vegetables. I knew the life was being choked out of their roots. Weeds intermingling their long tendrils through squash and broccoli. Suffocating the plants that I had worked so hard to start.
I had to do something.
On my hands and knees for only heaven knows how long, I started on one row, picking down to the base and then covering with newspaper. And my fingers are practically bleeding. To get a good grip, I had to go gloveless, and the weeds began to pull out with their lengthy white fibers trailing behind. Poor garden.
And the hot sun came out. I had to stop. But not before putting in a couple of hours. Although it’s hard to see, I can begin to notice the difference that even one row has made. Another will come tomorrow, maybe two. Then day by day it will all be weeded and covered to prevent outbreaks in the future. It’s a process. And my fingers are sore.
I’m reminded of something from yesterday. My fingers played the ground as I recalled a conversation I had with a changed man. It’s painful. I cry. But God’s doing a work in me. Less of me. More of Him. He described the process that God had been taking him through since the beginning of the year. Stripping him down. Bringing up all of the hard and painful things that he hadn’t even known were there. Seeing God’s truth and light to the front. Making him beautiful.
I know that if God can change a man who thought he was unchangeable, surely He has some work to do in me. Perhaps I’ve let myself go like my garden. I can feel that I have. At first it was a little weed that I overlooked, then another. And another. They spread. Overtaking my heart. My life. And although I may not be able to see them because I’ve picked the green off, the roots are still there.
So like my garden, I’m ready to be weeded. What about you?