It was a Day--a Good Day

Today was a day, just an ordinary day--but it was a good day. It was even a Thursday. What is truly eventful about Thursdays?

As evening came around, I looked back on this day—as I often do—thinking about activities or happenings that have taken place. It is my habit to mull over the day and acknowledge God’s Hand in my daily, routine existence. I maintain I’ll never see Him in any otherworldly events if I can't see Him in the mundane of everyday.

I awakened at a reasonable hour, refreshed and void of antagonism directed toward my neighbors over their dogs barking during the night. “Thank you. I appreciated getting a good night’s rest” was the text message I sent. I meant it. The last few nights have been rough.

The temperature outside was reasonable today, unlike the God-awful 90 degrees registered over the weekend. I’m a bit like Goldilocks—it must not be too hot nor too cold. It must be just right. 

The pest exterminator came around noon. I had been wondering if it was time for his quarterly visit, as I’ve seen more than a couple of the furry, black, hoppy-skippy-jumpy spiders that send me through the roof. They are sly as they avoid capture. Their intelligence is a bit mind boggling. I’m glad I have pest guys come regularly. They at least give me a sense they’re dealing with them.

A walk to the grocery store was in order, as I was almost out of my beloved muesli, my main breakfast food source. Walking the distance doesn’t match the number of steps I put in behind a lawn mower, but it works. I am grateful for the fresh air and the physical movement.

The quiet (in spite of the traffic) gave time for introspection as I considered learning—finally—how to not allow my mind to get caught up in things I have no control over, that have nothing to do with me or my life and accomplish nothing.

It’s simple—the good ones always are. I cannot do a thing about the thoughts that enter my mind. They are often old habit patterns of thinking that are negative and create a vortex effect. I realized I can choose to entertain those thoughts--or I can choose to send them on their way, out the door of my mind. Easy peezy!

Yesterday I purchased the creme de la crème of shrubs for my front garden bed. One glaring space was vacant and unimpressive, but I didn’t know what to plant. A trip to the grocery store found my feet heading for the plant display out front and resulted in the purchase of a Gaura. It is a perfect perennial for the area. It was given its new home today.

That’s what I call two-for-two: The right plant. In the ground. I can see it from my spare room where I am sitting at the computer.

A walk-through appraisal of all things growing resulted in watering a few that aren’t on the drip system, addressing a spider mite issue, AND picking strawberries. I do not have an abundance, but they are ripe red, sweet, and juicy. It has been a long time since I could graze in my own garden.

I am thankful for the life I have been given. It isn’t fancy; I’m not a world traveler; I don’t even have a bucket list. At this point in time, though, I wouldn’t trade it for any other. 

There is a slight breeze outside. My eyes are getting heavy as nightfall comes. Bedtime is around the corner. Are the dogs going to bark tonight? Time will tell.

Life is brief. I am finally learning to live in the present instead of worrying about the road that is ten miles ahead. I am thankful for this day and everything that was in it.

May your days be good days as well—ones where you experience and recognize God’s Hand in your life.

 

“O taste and see that the Lord is good;

happy are those who take refuge in him.”

Psalm 34:8

 

 

 

On Tending and Time

tend: v. To look after; to be attentive to; to note carefully; to attend to. 

time: n. How much of a day has passed; the moment, as indicated by a clock or similar device.

           My garden has never looked better, although applying that word to my outdoor space is still foreign. I grew up a country girl. We had yards, not gardens. I started calling them gardens while working for city clients. Whatever the terminology, it is more pleasing to the eye than it has been in years.

The apple tree was pruned at the proper time; the developing apple clusters thinned to two or three. I did not go crazy with the pruners on the smoke tree in the middle of summer. The better way was to bring it under control in winter, while dormant. Forsythia, lilac, quince, and lorapetalum—all were clipped back and shaped right after blooming, necessary as they set next year’s blooms immediately. Previously, I had not given them any attention for several years. They were massively overgrown.

Instead of wearing blinders as I allowed the weeds to take over, my constant battle with them has become an active effort to control. A drip irrigation system, monitored by a timer, was installed, which means the veggies and flowers are receiving water at a consistent rate.

The flowers and plants I purchase locally are planted almost immediately, avoiding the withering and dying of potential dreams. Spent blooms are dead-headed, aphids are discovered and dealt with, slugs meet their demise.

What has changed? I didn’t call in a crew of young guys to prune and haul off the debris. I have not called a landscape company to come, wave a magic wand, and do a makeover. I didn’t even convert my outdoor space into a bare minimum of low-maintenance shrubs and rock-covered landscape fabric.

What happened? I retired one year ago from my gardening business and was given the gift of time—time to tend my garden. That is what changed. I went from working seven days a week in the gardens of others to working in my own. Prior to that my garden was the poster child for “A cobbler’s children have no shoes.”

I often thought I was lazy and slothful as the shrubs in my garden became overgrown and the beds overrun with weeds. In the past year I have come to realize tending a garden takes time. Time was something I didn’t have.

Tending is a pro-active word. It requires involvement and action. It doesn’t suggest supervision; it does require participation.

Tending a garden requires an eagle-eye approach as you are always on the lookout for menacing insects or pests. Is there a trail of slime, evidence of a sightseeing slug seeking out dinner? You may notice a little white moth flitting around in innocence. Experience teaches it is not innocent but is looking for a place to lay its eggs on your broccoli, cabbage, or brussels sprouts.  These very quickly turn into fat, green worms with voracious appetites, decimating a crop. Aphids, whiteflies, spider mites—the list is endless as a garden becomes a war zone with the credo “Get them first.”

Is that plant getting too much water or is it thirsty? Would fertilizer help?

Tending anything requires a personal undertaking and, with that, a commitment of time. I often visit the childcare facility in the church next door, and there is no question those children are being tended and well taken care of. There are some in the medical field who still provide one-on-one care to their patients instead of just watching them pass through the doors. Some, not all, pastors nurture and take care of the flock given to them. Their parishioners are more than a potential financial contributor.  

Tending is personal. And it takes time.

My Heavenly Father sets the standard as He tends to me. Nothing escapes his eye. He has a plan and a direction in mind for my life. When I refuse to cooperate, He sets up roadblocks to deter me from taking a path that heads for a cliff. When I am “gung ho” to go it alone, He allows me that freedom while waiting for me when things go awry. He takes note of my attitude as He places a mirror in front of me—“Ugly doesn’t become you,” He suggests.

In the same way a garden left to itself is overcome by weeds, the flowers wasted away and dying from lack of water, so too humankind. If it wasn’t for the Master Gardener tending the garden of my life daily, I would either implode or explode, destroying the very fabric of myself.

God sees that I am watered, nourished with spiritual food, and pruned when necessary. He gives me sunshine; He walks me through storms. He takes note of the quality of my spiritual soil as He encourages and promotes deep roots. Weeds are never allowed to get a stranglehold in this spiritual garden.

My physical garden bears evidence of being tended. As I work in it, neighbors in the area stop and comment on its beauty. One thing I never forget--I do not create the beauty. I only tend it.

It is my hope and desire that my spiritual garden is given the same notice and acknowledgement of God’s Hand.

 

"…do you not know..that you are not your own?

For you were bought with a price; therefore glorify God in your body."

I Corinthians 6:19-20 NRSVUE