Every spring I have listened to a few inclined girlfriends talk about their gardening. I withstand the stories about mulching, watering and bugs and have even eaten from the harvest of their vegetable plots. I have never been interested. This year however I decided to try sprouting some beans, in preparation for a similar activity I wanted to do with the kids at work, and somehow caught the garden bug. Now I’m watching lentils, kidney beans, basil and chives (don’t laugh. I’m new at this!) sprout in pots near my backyard, as I wait for Toronto weather to make it permissible to replant them outdoors.
I don’t know why this year has been different. Maybe because I am older now and I suppose these are the things that interest women when they get older. Maybe because making things grow has turned out to be therapeutic for me as I face (or avoid) the heartache of other things dying in my life. Whatever the reason, it is becoming more and more of a joy to see the stems on my plants stretching longer each day, to see new leaves opening and growing, and to watch the miracle of life. It just reminds me of how amazing God is, and how he can create something new and beautiful from something small and simple. It is teaching me to hope that He will do the same in me.