Life in a Garden

We began working on our version of a victory garden in the early weeks of quarantine. After tearing up some lingering concrete in the backyard, we seeded grass, built a rock wall between our yard and the neighboring garage and starting planting a number of things which we have managed not to kill (mostly).

I have kept my gardening aspirations small, and truth be told, my husband does nearly all of the labor out there. Between work and the humans that live inside my home, we need our outdoor world to be resilient to a missed day (or three) of watering.

Still, it’s a small patch of Eden in the city we love—a respite from our current doomsday trifecta of politics, racial injustice, and Covid—where we can find rest.

I wonder if the sweetness of this rest was purchased by the making. Every sweaty brow and dirt filled fingernail that contributed growing life out here makes it all the more satisfying to enjoy the growth.

Making space requires us to battle against the sin in our hearts and the brokenness of a fallen world. But the hard work of growing life is worth it.

“Let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”