Born in a garden

Spring calls us outside, I can see the sun rays filling my room with a delightful invitation to jump on my bike or simply just be outside in its glorious rays. There is so much to do outside, from planting, celebrating, remembering or resting … so much to do …. 

I feel closer to the Lord, hands in tilled soil, dirt under fingernails, garden gloves laying beside me with a reminder that often man kind inventions are not always best. The breeze hits my skin breaking away from the winter coldness with the sun warmth cutting right through me. This is where I came from. 

Born in a garden. One word away from dirt!! My soul knows, peeking into the past, a glimpse into His character. 

Today my mind drifts as I walk by the vines, grapes will appear soon. Takes me back to Hastings where the vineyards edged into the landscape as if they were born from the land themselves. Mind races with the many vineyards, sun filled afternoon celebrations I have experienced in early years. 

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener… I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” (John 15:1, 5)

Jesus statement of “I am” illustrates a true love through his words and compassionate actions… all the way to sacrificial death on the cross. We, Jesus said, are the branches. Cut from the vine, we dry up and die. Anchored to the true vine, we grow and bear fruit. Connected to the true vine, we tap into everlasting and abundant sustenance! - How many times have we heard this reading?? Actually heard it?

I keep walking. My mind racing with the list of things to do, small chores asked to be complete and the many others that I have been hoping to be clear off my list. 

Then…. my thoughts drift to Creation Day. Walking in the cool of the day with HIm. A whole day, what would this be like? Is that day like today? 

Growing. Spring is growing. God’s mercies are surrounding us in the tender leaves and dark mud. 

It all started in the garden. The Lord likes to plant and grow things. Roses. Daffodils. Parsley. Me. 

His tools look different from mine. As image-bearer, I’m glad to partake. Focused on weed pulling, a rhythm occurs. Knees bend, shoulders arch, lungs start to breathe for the first time. 

Thoughts appear of inner pruning. Outer pruning of attitudes concerning other members of the branches. 

It is a grace to be able to recognise how the branches need trimming.  

Prayerful, God be my Soul Gardner. 

Then, a weed camouflaged by another leave appears. My eyes missed this intruder the first pass. My sight isn’t always true. 

I pause in awe. My life is the same. Holy Spirit produced fruit in me but not perfection. Weeding, pruning and fruit harvesting - never one without the other.