It’s work, at least for my wife and me.
When you can’t tend a garden every day, it can quickly get away from you. Restoring order to an unruly garden takes time, patience, and hard work.
And so, there we were, Saturday morning, on our knees, in the dirt, pulling weeds.
Weeks before, I had sown the seed, plopped those plants in the ground, and with a modicum of labor, kept them free of weeds.
In the meantime, we just waited.
We smiled as the rain nourished the baby plants into adolescents and supplied the seeds with the necessary ingredient for them to burst forth from their hiding place in the ground.
But, the weeds drank up the water, too, growing at a rate exponentially more than their more cultured rivals.
And so, Lori and I charged forth on that given Saturday morning, anxious to pull, chop, and hoe those weeds down.
And we did.
Until the sun began to talk to us.
Our backs were the first to voice their complaint, reminding us that they didn’t get to vote on their participation in this project.
Then our knees reminded us that this would have been much easier when the soil was softer, like a couple of days after a rain, rather than a week or two later.
In the midst of that conversation, a friend called Lori. As she walked away, I thought I overheard the caller saying, “Save yourself while you can.”
Meanwhile, I was watering the ground with my sweat, while the weeds were snickering, mocking my efforts, reminding me that even if I succeeded today, they would be back tomorrow or the next day, bringing more friends with them.
This was not only physical, but mental warfare as well.
Whoever said, “Gardening is a matter of your enthusiasm holding up until your back gets used to it,” knew that of which they spoke.
It’s true of life, too.
We start a project with a goal clearly set in our mind. Obstacles invariably emerge, sometimes as mere speed bumps, other times as intimidating road blocks.
Here’s what I’ve found: if I only keep the end in mind and nothing else—whether it’s a spiritual, family, financial, or a self-interest goal like having a luscious garden—if that’s all I focus on, then I inevitably flag. The challenges to that ultimate goal loom larger than life.
But if I slice that goal into mini-projects, the monthly, weekly, daily, hourly duties along the path to that final goal, then it somehow becomes more manageable and less overwhelming.
And so, there I am in my backyard garden, moving along on my knees, pulling first that weed and then the next. Yes, that ideal garden is still before my mind’s eye: beautiful broccoli, bright red tomatoes, perky peppers.
But that’s out there, someday. Today is a weeding day. My goal is to conquer, one row at a time. Then I can stand up, look down that one row, and pat myself on my aching back.
And what’s more, hallelujah, Lori returns, like the Calvary, bringing fresh supplies in the form of cold water and cheery words.
Yes, I’m good to carry on: one row at a time.