Way back in 2015, as my beloved’s health and strength started to fail, I took over the responsibility of cutting the lawn. I don’t mind pushing the lawnmower around. There is a sense of accomplishment when you look back and see the swaths of grass mowed down and the lawn looking tidy. However, there is one troublesome hill on our side lawn. It grew only weeds because the soil was sandy and light and turned to dust after a few hot summer days. I got tired of struggling to push the lawnmower up the steep bank and being choked by the dust that blew around as a result. I declared I was going to turn that hillside into a garden. My dear one said, “We don’t need anymore garden – grass is easier.” I pointed out to him that there was no grass there only weeds and I was tired of them. I prevailed. A couple of summer later, as my garden grew and his health declined he sat beside me as I pulled weeds and he said, “This garden is a nice addition!”
Now, a few years on, I am still pulling weeds and watching my garden grow. It delights me every morning, as I open the window and see the riot of colour and the marvelous texture and movement of the perennials that show their beauty every day.
I have decided that pulling weeds is my spiritual practice this summer. As I kneel in among the flowers, rooting out the weeds that infiltrate, it seems, almost overnight, I hear my mother’s words echo in my mind, “With the kiss of the sun for pardon and the song of the birds for mirth, you are nearer God’s heart in a garden, than anywhere else on earth.” And I feel the pulse and rhythm of God’s heart beating through the glory of summer sun and the wonder of the earth pushing forth life. It really is quite miraculous, the power of re-creation and growth.
It feels miraculous in my soul as well. Some days, these days, the dire news as Covid 19 continues its crawl around the earth and more and more people succumb to illness, my soul, feels battered and weary. I find a few hours of weeding reminds me of the power to overcome and the wonder of regrowth. Nothing can completely take away grief and sorrow but they can diminish in the amazing, bigger picture of creation.
So, “when I am weary and feeling low” as the old song says, I walk out to my garden and start pulling weeds. On my knees, in the earth, with the song of birds in my ears I find some peace in my soul. Thankfully, that is all I need to face a new day.
