Here is my final story about garden memories:
I found myself pondering the fact that I’d lost a job I had poured myself into for over a decade. It took a while to overcome the initial shock, but then I settled into a routine to the point where my main desire centered around homemaking. A mountain-load of stress being removed was invigorating, while still leaving me looking for a purpose. It must limit itself to my home and to our smaller budget. What new activity could fill up my hours as well as my pocket book?
Spring was coming, and that meant that summer was just around the corner. How about a garden? Yes, God could help me provide missing income or at least cut down on food expenses by blessing us this way.
The Deal
Oh God, I promise that I will not waste the blessings you produce through my garden, if You will give me a bountiful harvest. I knew that I didn’t need to make a deal with God, but it felt like more of a partnership this way.
Plans went into effect immediately as I poured over seed catalogues, planned garden layouts, and even started researching the fascinating world of fertilizer. Because of our limited funds, it would have to be cheap or preferably free. We located a site on Craig’s List that advertized aged horse manure. I wanted to keep good relations with downwind neighbors, so I grabbed at this source of less aromatic compost. We made arrangements, and I soon found myself wheel barrowing this soil enrichment from the back of a truck to the garden. My husband had designated this task to me because he wasn’t overjoyed with his role of loading the truck for my goofy brainstorm.
After spreading the fertilizer onto the garden site, the cold days lingered. I had to content myself with placing pea seeds carefully into dirt-filled egg cartons. When spring seemed only a faint dream, my husband built my egg carton collection some shelves over the garage windows. His motivation came somewhat by kindness, but mostly in order to recover his workbench.
Planting the Garden
The one-foot pea plants stuck awkwardly out from their egg carton containers. They had now found their home in the newly defrosted earth as spring finally sprung. I had to catch up with the weather quickly verging on summer temperatures, as I transplanted flowering tomatoes, zucchinis, and summer squash, along with onion set
With the warm weather established, we were off and running, and each day brought its manna-like offerings of just enough harvest for that day without waste. First came the raspberries, initially by the handfuls, and then by the bucket. When they were finished, many pints of jam sat on the shelves. Then cherries, which involved renting an orchard ladder, and competing with birds and squirrels for the tart, pie treats. Next, apples started falling from my little gnarled twenty-year-old tree, each day’s worth enough for a pint of sweet applesauce.
The End of Summer
Even in the midst of the whirl of harvest activity, I knew it would come to an end. And now, that end had come. It’s almost as if a friend has died; no daily treasure to discover in my garden. No new challenge in finding a use for each lovely fruit or veggie. What would I do?
It was the end of a season of sowing and reaping God’s promised blessings. He had been faithful to provide and had honored my willingness to meet Him there. I had no reason to believe that He would suddenly leave me at the garden gate, now that summer was at an end. There would be other challenges of worth, perhaps involving people and relationships. Maybe He would give me an encounter of eternal significance as He opened other areas for me to meet Him–in writing, in ministry, in prayer or study.
The seeds I would plant on fertile ground could be in the hearts of those He put in my path. Thank you Lord for your gift of the garden and please continue to develop in me a heart for the growth of new life in others.
Dianna
Sharing the Fruit of Maturity
