Weeding

I don’t think there was any other word that struck more dread in me as a child during the long, hot days of summer than “weeding”. I was finally free from school and lessons and thought my time was now mine to do whatever I chose to, ride my bike around the block with a posse of other children, play in the park, build epic castles and cities in the massive sand box in our backyard, climb trees, and wander fields. But alas, my childish vision of a carefree summer and my parents vision of my “carefree” summer were two very different things.

Growing up, my summer day involved getting up early (no sleeping in here) and completing a list of chores BEFORE even contemplating playing or running free. Those chores included making my bed, tidying my room, laundry one day a week, vacuuming and dusting one day a week, and… weeding. (Processing vegetables and fruit from the garden would come later in the summer and that could take ALL DAY!) The rule was that these chores happened in the morning before lunch and then, after lunch, the day was mine. In my little brain, the task of weeding was the greatest injustice in my world. None of the rest of my friends had to do this job. They didn’t have a mom with the eyes of a hawk that would check our work and make us do it over again if we missed any weeds. It was an endless task that was often accompanied by bickering between my sister and I about who was doing a better job, whose row had more weeds than the other, and who was going to finish first. Heaven forbid if I ever uttered the words “I’m bored” because the immediate response would most likely be, “Well, there is a whole garden to weed, so get to it!” Believe me when I tell you that, with all certainty, we had the largest garden in all of Green Acres, Brandon, Manitoba!

Weeds. Every gardener must contend with them at one point or another. I am often flabbergasted by how tenacious those plants are. The tiniest of seeds drop from the weed plant to the soil and seem to be able to germinate, grow, and thrive (blast it!) despite the harshest temperatures or soil conditions. To keep them in check requires a regiment of regular hoeing, raking, pulling, and discarding to keep a garden looking pristine and Pintrest-worthy. There are times when I am tempted to haul out some Round-Up and spray it all but I know that is really only a temporary solution to an age-old problem that’s been around since the dawn of time. Weeding a garden is often back-breaking work, requiring me to crawl around on my hands and knees in the dirt in the heat of the sun or the clouds of mosquitoes if I try to do it earlier or later in the day. What do I do it for? Does it even make a difference other than to have a neat, tidy looking garden?

Over the years my attitude towards weeding has changed. Where I once loathed it and, out of obedience to my parents, it was a task that had to be done, now I choose to do it because I know that there are both benefits to myself and to the garden when I do. In my faith journey I have studied about and learned to embrace disciplines in my life. The discipline of weeding is, in itself, an activity that provides both mental and physical training for both my mind and body. It teaches me to be methodical and intentional in my actions so as to not hurt my back, thorough in my elimination of the pesky weeds, and to know that the end result with be worth it. But more than that, it is an exercise for my soul. Strangely enough, when I get down and dirty with the weeds in my garden, it is precisely there that God chooses to get down and dirty with me and speak to my soul.

I’m not often one to listen to music or podcasts when I’m gardening but prefer to listen to the wind in the trees, the birds singing, and the various sounds of the farm floating on the breeze. Somehow while doing the monotonous task of weeding the voices in my mind that tell me all the things I am “not enough” at somehow seem to quiet long enough for me to hear the whispers of the Spirit. As I pull the weeds and drop them in the bucket, the Holy Spirit points out to me the weeds in my own life that likewise need to be identified, examined, and pulled out in order for me to thrive and grow. There are many times when, on my hands and knees, I have been brought to tears by the tender words of the Spirit whispered to my struggling soul. It’s been cathartic, refreshing, and renewing in a way that I would never have thought it could be.

Now don’t misunderstand me, I still don’t like weeding just as I don’t relish examining my own soul and looking deep into my sins and vices. But there is a time and place for everything. My gardens will never be weed free, just as my life will never be sin-free. I like to think I’m getting there, though, one weed at a time. Blessings to you, my friends, as you weed in your gardens as well.