Part l Bud of Hope Part ll Gardening with God

Part l Bud of Hope

My garden is buried under several feet of snow with more predicted this week and temps that can be expressed with one digit.

May garden pot of hope appears below.

Several weeks ago, I went to out to empty dead plants so I could pot some tulip bulbs which had been cooling in my refrigerator in order to force them for Christmas time. Christmas was long past. I determined to throw out all the plants because the Patient Lucy (What a misnomer. There is nothing patient about Lucy and she got too cold next to the window and began to shrivel.) I turned the pot over and shook out the plants and then I saw it -----one little bud on the fuchsia. I could not let it die. It became my hope of spring, of resurrection, of new life. I put new potting soil, the six red tulip bulbs and the fuchsia and the hellebore back in the pot. each day my little bud is getting bigger and getting ready to open.

If you live in California, this probably doesn't make much sense. To refresh your mind, see photo of my window sill. Growing up in California, the fuchsias grew as huge bushes and as a child, I delighted in popping the bulbs just to hear them pop. I ask for forgiveness for my sins which are manifold and do trouble my soul.

The Christmas lights are still on the plants to help keep them warm. The rosemary especially loves the extra light and heat. Notice that one of the bulbs can be seen popping above ground in the photo. Only four more months until the sweet earth appears, again.

Part ll Gardening with God

I love to garden. I love to have an excuse to put my hands in the dirt. The rich sweet smelling, always changing, earth. The place I came from and will return to-----which brings me much peace. As I put on grubby clothes saying that I was off to garden, my children used to say "Mom is going out to play in the mud." I am not the best gardener. There is so much to know about plants. I have made every mistake possible. I have unwittingly pulled up good seedlings and nurtured weeds.

In the garden, while I'm visiting the plants, weeds and flowers, I often hear from God. My prayer life always gets the short shrift when I approach the formal process which I admit I need. The words of the Book of Common prayer wash over me and marinate my soul in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection and the assurance that God is in control. I don't pray formal prayers enough. However, in the garden, I not only request, plead and talk with God, God often answers me. Clarity comes when I hear God speaking in the garden.

I am God's servant and so the title of my blog is fitting, "gardener for God." I believe that I am called with all of God's people to tend this earth to restore paradise. When my children were young, I used to compare them to my garden. I was my work to tend them and to give them air and sunlight and water but I couldn't wait to see how they would turn out. What kind of flower would they be? This is how I see my ministry, also. I can preach and know what I intended but I have no control over what others take away. I cast my seed and it grows as God intends. I nurture my congregation trying to be faithful to how God is directing, and they will grow into the kind of flower they are. I pray that they will grow into the flower that God intends them to be and that my ministry with them helps encourage them in that direction.