digging deeper

my kids tease me for thinking that digging in the soil makes everything a little bit better. tease away children, but i won’t be convinced otherwise. it helps. there’s something cathartic in turning a shovel-full of soil or burrowing my hands deep into dirt. perhaps not best for a manicure, but who worries about those these days anyway? 

the outdoors, y’all—if you haven’t discovered it more keenly since quarantine life, can i suggest you might be missing something? 

you don’t need a garden of eden to explore. perhaps it is only a couple of tomato pots on your balcony or watching a handful of seeds germinate in a sunny, warm window. maybe it is something ambitious like sectioning off an acre or two for late summer vegetables, but it can certainly be walks in a nearby park or sipping your morning coffee to the songs of birds. the options are endless.

working in my yard is something i come by honestly. it’s in my blood. i grew up with a grandpa who was always fiddling with some flower or plant. i can close my eyes and still see him standing with garden hose in hand watering our small patch of city grass. that patch of grass and those sunny orange marigolds of his, i remember them like yesterday. to this day, i cannot see a marigold and not think of my grandpa.

my mom looking over her lovely patio

as each generation often does, my parents took it a step further: by the time i was in high school they had prolific gardens growing all over our backyard. some of you have seen the pictures of the home they just sold last summer. i’ve posted a few below. it has been their shared passion for decades. i love that. i love that for years they have spent days digging side by side and evenings sitting in their garden, sipping a glass of something and talking about their lilies or lilacs. even up to last year, my mom would count her day lilies every single day, keeping a list of her numbers from june through august—some summers counting over 2500 lilies. that is true commitment, people! 

my sister, jess

my siblings and i also share this passion. each one of us approaching it slightly different as we live in unique regions of our country, but all of us wired for this garden thing: dig deep, get dirty, enjoy the fruits and beauty of our outdoor labors. my sister, jess, in her brooklyn brownstone. my sister, nicole, living in the lush pacific northwest, my brother, doug, up in beautiful ohio and me here in the deep south. we just need a southwest sibling growing cacti and succulents and we’d be all set. 

i love that it’s our family thing. 

nicole's gorgeous veggies!

i love that we can send pictures of our blooming butterfly bushes or bright japanese maples. i love that we share excitement over the slow unfurling of leaves or the baby green fronds of new ferns. and we don’t have to explain why we are sharing our photos. we know everyone gets it. growing up together in a one bathroom home in cleveland ohio, we might not always have appreciated each other, but as grown up gardeners spread across our country, we have great appreciation for each other’s outdoor expression.

through this strange time of quarantine, i’ve been so grateful to witness the incredible unfolding of spring in my own yard. daily, i watch nature bursting forth, painting my yard-canvas in bright colors.  i’ve had lots of time to notice and i’m pretty sure i’ve never seen a lovelier spring down here in georgia. 

brooke, modeling me. =)

the yard is my place. chances are you’ll find me out there more often than in my own kitchen. in fact, a few weeks ago, when our family dressed up as each other for some quarantine fun, my son’s girlfriend (brooke) drew my name and dressed as she sees me — twigs in hair and leaf blower in hand. it made me laugh. (see video). i guess that looks a little cra-cra, but it’s truly my happy place. garden hair and i don't care! 

i’ve spent the majority of my quarantine in the yard. 

it keeps me grounded. connected. it keeps me feeling full of hope. the rhythms of nature and the cycles of seasons … there is something comforting and sure about them. when the world stopped in the month of march, nature marched on, marched forward, marched forth. 

burst forth.

there’s no surprise for me that Jesus used the ideas of gardening in His description of our growth in and connection to Him. this makes perfect sense for me. i can’t be in nature and not see Jesus. His plan. His creation. His beauty.

“for since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—His eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.” romans 1:20

it's not only about marveling at the complexity of His design, but we are also to  learn from it. there are countless analogies which explain and encourage us in our relationship with the Lord.  jeremiah tells us --

“they will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. it does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. it has no worries in the a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.” jeremiah 17

notice he writes “WHEN heat comes.” it’s not a matter of IF adversity will arrive, but WHEN. because when we are truly rooted in Him —truly rooted near the life giving stream of His holy waters—we will have roots already in place and they will dig deeper and we will not worry and, dear ones, even in great difficulty, we can bear fruit. 

in adversity, where we have positioned ourselves is everything. 

are we close to the stream?

are we close to Him?

or are we depending on ourselves? 

depending on our own perseverance and our  self-mustering strength? 

the degree of heat and the enormity of suffering—though certainly significant —aren’t everything. but WHERE we are in relation to the True Gardener of our souls is what counts most. i know this. i’ve read this passage countless times in my 50+ years, but oh how i need to be reminded of it so often: stay close. stay connected. stay entwined to the True Vine:

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. … remain in me, as I also remain in you. no branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. if you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. if you do not remain in me, you are like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. if you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. this is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my

disciples. as the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. now remain in my love.” john 15

another word for remain is abide. “ABIDE in me, as i also ABIDE in you. no branch can bear fruit by itself; it must ABIDE in the vine. neither can you bear fruit unless you ABIDE in me.”

all of this time out in my yard, whether growing vegetables or flowers, has convinced me 100% that the only way toward life and growth is to remain well connected to the True Vine. the georgia sun is something quite fierce. even the smallest break from a plant’s life-giving source means sure and certain death. there’s no “kind of” connected or “almost” attached. it doesn’t work that way in nature. it doesn’t work that way in our

human nature either. 

we are not just encouraged to remain and abide, but commanded to do so. why? is it because our God is controlling or is it because our God is compassionate? He knows anything less will leave us completely exposed to the withering heat of adversity. He wants us strong and thriving. challenges, even suffering, are what lead us to greater dependence on Him.

times like these make it clear. times like these make us more aware. if i’m thinking i’ve got enough in me to get through it based on my own preparedness or perseverance, i’m going to quickly find out i’m not nearly enough.  

the heat has come. the adversity is everywhere. and our world is weary.

i need a life-sustaining source. 

i need continual refreshment.

i need the hope of daily renewal.

i need evidence of fruit and growth. 

dear ones, i need what only Jesus can give. 

can i do it perfectly? of course not. no, i must constantly ask Him to keep me close and to help me abide in Him. it is a daily struggle, friends, because our very human nature wants so badly to do it ourselves. there’s just something about us which longs for that autonomy. oh how we love to self-govern. think back to that first sin in the garden of eden. adam and eve wanted their own way too. they were given everything, but they wanted that one fruit outside of God’s best. they wanted to put themselves in control, themselves in charge … and look what happened.

 these are hard times to be sure. but it is times like these which bring us to the end of our stubborn, self-governing selves. when we find out we aren’t enough, we begin searching for the One who is. and maybe this very self-lacking will show us our need for a new beginning: a rooting, a connecting, a depending, a digging deeper than we could possibly dig on our own. 

dear ones, don’t be afraid of not being enough. let it be the very thing which leads us to the life giving waters of Him.

“that is why, for Christ’s sake, i delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. for when i am weak, then i am strong.” 2 corinthians 12:9-11

“He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.” isaiah 40:29

“ah, Sovereign Lord, YOU have made the heavens and the earth by YOUR great power and outstretched arm. nothing is to hard for you.”  jeremiah 32:17

“for since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—His eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.” romans 1:20