​Backyard metaphor

I have never been much of a gardener and it would seem that our postage-stamp-backyard should not require a highly skilled horticulturist but I am beginning to wonder…

I was gifted with several hosta-starts this spring. What a joy it was to plant them, until the deer arrived. Deer are not supposed to eat hostas; however, 'my deer' didn't get the memo.

Even as the hostas were being served up morning, noon and night, the slugs attacked. Yes, I was besieged by four-legged eaters as well as creepy crawlers.

As the summer wore on, the slugs have become less problematic but the deer…

Most recently those deer-feeders came through and pretty well 'dead headed' every blossom in the yard. In some cases, not much remains of plants but naked stems.

Bottom line, as the summer morphs into fall, my backyard looks weary. The truth is, I too feel weary.

Since winter the world has been battling a virus turned pandemic. Since mid-March, every one of us has somehow been affected as we figure out work details, family details, economic fallout and how to continue to 'be' in the midst of it all.

Phrases like 'making it up as we go' and 'throwing spaghetti at the wall' have become the lived-out norms as we re-think and re-make how to be the church here and now.

I am weary.

Yes, God is faithful. Yes, I am healthy. Yes, you have been beautifully supportive in a thousand ways. And still, like my yard, I am weary.

My backyard has more lessons for me... 

It won't be long until the annuals will die back and the leaves will drop and blanket the whole garden. And then, after some winter's rest, the very hostas that have been decimated this season will sprout again.

Weary doesn't get the last word. Nor does winter or death. For now, I have to trust those promises but soon enough, new life will push through the soil. I will wait.

Pastor Leah