Lessons from the backyard

“Here I am,” I prayed, shivering. 

Despite my cosy vest and the blanket over my legs, the air on my face and hands was icy. 

Birds cawed, cooed and tweeted, their various calls sometimes melodious and at other times, grating. An engine grumbled nearby, perhaps from a nearby suburban block subdivision. When it paused, the undulating rumble of traffic noise was audible. A train rushed by, no longer stopping at our local station, which is under construction at the same time that the level crossing is removed. 

The sun shone weakly, dark clouds threatening to block its light altogether. Raindrops glistened on overgrown grass. Flowers are forming, stems beautifully curving towards buds and blossoms. The violets are already out in all their glorious humility. The gentle angles in the garden contrasted with the squares of construction, every corner of my home behind me measuring 90^o exactly. 

What was I doing in the garden on this late winter’s day? And, more importantly, where was the Creator in all this? 

Background

It was a semi-regular half-day retreat. Several other women in ministry were striving to appreciate God through creation in their backyards at the same time. We were all connected through zoom. 

Having considered Biblical examples of how God expresses himself through nature, we were now doing the practical part of the exercise. Soon we would reconnect and share our experiences. (Screenshots of the instructions for our activity are below if you are interested. Let me know if you would like an emailed copy.) 

Allow me to share in this blog a few highlights from my time in the cold this morning. 

Mercy

‘Neglected’ is a good word to describe my backyard. Yet in God’s mercy, rains fall and plants grow. I don’t deserve a pretty garden. But God has seen fit to bless me with this little corner in suburbia. 

My thoughts flitted to Jesus’ words, uttered on the other side of the world some two millennia ago. In challenging his listeners to love their enemies, he said this: 

… that you may be children of Your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.

Matthew 5:45 NIV

I don’t deserve to have my garden watered, nor to have the sun shine on my neglected plants. But God does not treat us as we deserve. 

He is merciful. 

Pruning

Neglected though my garden may be, I did ‘prune in June’ … almost. It was more like early July, actually. 

Pruning is painful. At least, I imagine it to be when I attribute human characteristics to my rose bushes. Perfectly good branches are removed and destroyed. 

I remembered my Lord’s words to his disciples in another garden far, far away in both space and time.

I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.

John 15:1-2 NIV

What does God want to prune from my life, I wondered? 

Pruning is painful. But I was comforted by the fact that the gardener is God himself. 

Onion weed

Onion weed. What an ugly name for such a vigorous flowering plant. 

When I first moved to this area, a helpful neighbour offered to poison the onion weed for me. I was horrified. “It’s green,” I explained. “Let it live.” 

To be honest, at the time, I thought that they were snowdrops. They’re not dissimilar, but one is a friend while the other, in this culture, is deemed an enemy. 

That was before I realised that, given half a chance, onion weed would take over my backyard. It’s not a bad plant. Although pungent, it’s pretty enough. But if I don’t uproot it, the grass will not have space to grow. 

The parable of the onion weed, I call it. Were Jesus to walk the streets of Melbourne at this time of year, I daresay he would have some story to tell about onion weed. It might be like ‘the wheat and the tares’. Nevertheless, I don’t plan to let grass and onion weed grow together in my backyard. 

Intentions for moving ahead

This morning, I took a half day, in the company of some other ladies, to focus on the Great Gardener. He cares for us in his mercy and he prunes us for his purposes. 

This sort of activity is always helpful. I find myself re-focused and refreshed. 

The onion weed, however, has to go!