No one told me that when I was born to my mother that an inclination to gardening was craftily placed in the strains of my DNA. My mom is a gardener, her mother's a gardener and I'm pretty sure her mother's mother was a gardener as well. Our home's landscaping is a work in progress. We moved in around the beginning of October - not really a great time to overhaul the flowerbeds - especially when we had NO money.
So, today I set out determined to conquer the unruly crepe myrtles and prickly dandelions. Did you know that you're really not supposed to hack the tops off crepe myrtles like all the landscapers do in the fancy schmancy subdivisions? Hmm. They need to read their monthly Southern Living. Guess who did?
Gardening is a great time for musings. While patiently burrowing my gloved fingers around each weed and triumphantly pulling roots and all out, I was reminded of a beautiful word spoken into my life.
There was a man who desired to plant a magnificent flower garden in the middle of a weed-ridden field. It just so happened that he chose a parcel of land currently owned by you. He makes an irresistible offer to buy the land.
Then you realize there's nothing that has ever grown on that land but weeds.
The buyer is seeking to grow something utterly impossible in the land's present state. You've got to do something. You try a few methods. You first try to simply mow over the weeds. But, alas, they return with a good rain. Then you try to cover them. You purchase several bags of the finest topsoil to dress it up. Still, the weeds push through, tainting the elegant topsoil. Finally, you get down on your hands and knees and pull the weeds until your fingertips are rough with dirt, your knuckles white with work, your skin cracked and dry. You wipe your brow with the back of your tired hand. Your heart is downcast.
There are just so many weeds. How will they ever be removed? I'm not strong enough to do this on my own.
"And He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you for My power is perfected in weakness.'"
"And the harder I try
The more clearly can I
See the depths of our fall
And the weight of it all
But this might could be
The most impossible thing
Your grandness in me
Making me clean