soil to SOUL
I love peering into the garden, seeing how much growth has taken place since the last look, reflecting on if that’s what God does to me, and wondering if I make Him proud or disappointed at His glance.
Planting gives hope of new growth for both plants and things that are planted in us and in others, as we cultivate what matters.
We sow into others' lives, and it often transforms both them and us, sometimes without either of us knowing.
“He has made everything beautiful in its time.” - Ecclesiastes 3:11 - ESV
To say our connection with nature is deeply rooted is a mild understatement. Nature nurtures us. Part of my quiet time is spent walking through my flower garden each morning gathering seeds for next year’s sowing. Gardening is methodical, strategic, orderly and deeply beneficial.
“Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love, for in You I trust.” - Psalm 143:8 - ESV
Have you ever walked in a natural park and felt the effects of this world on your body decrease, even if just for a short period of time? If not, you should. We have some of the grandest natural parks in the US that capture some of God’s most beautiful and breathtaking masterpieces.
Nature heightens our senses, as our eyes gaze on God’s majestic beauty, our nose grasps the flowers aroma, and the sounds have us linger in awe. It’s therapeutic, restorative and healing, while providing life. Nature is such a beautiful teacher, and we have so much to learn from it, so stay rooted, and well grounded, keep your hands and feet in the soil and allow the dirt to brush your lips, taking in the Earth’s minerals, as you wipe the continuous drips of sweat.
Just like we add nutrients to enrich and nourish the soil before we plant something, we need to be conscious of how we prepare, and what we add to ourselves as well, and I’m not just talking about food. God’s Word, both in print and melody come to mind. I’m a work in progress and I hope every day both He and I can see progression.
“For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my Word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.” - Isaiah 55:10-11 ESV
Is what you feed and nourish yourself encouraging,
and building or depleting and destroying? Do you spend time meditating on things that heal or wound you? You have a choice daily to provide yourself with so many things that are medicinal, but not a prescription RX.
I have so much trouble trying to convince myself to work in the yard with shoes on, and being a Risk Manager, most of that goes against the things I believe and preach. We recently built a new home and moved to Graham and I’m still finding the oddest things in our yard, most of which are not meant to be stepped on. I love to be grounded by the dirt and grass beneath me, and there’s just something sacred about being barefoot.
Gardening, playing in the dirt, feeling the soil between my toes, and pruning plants, it’s all therapy to me, keeping my heart beating and alive, and hopefully adding candles each year to my birthday cake. The soil connects with my soul and gives me a wonderful feeling that I’m tending God’s Earth, and I’m making both He and I proud and sometimes I feel the dirtier I got the harder I worked. But there’s a time to be in the dirt and a time to be cleansed, and sometimes being in the dirt is both.
Gardening and attending to plants were born into me. I come from a long line of family who like to plant, grow and nurture things, spend time in the dirt, sweat and make things beautiful. My dadi, his mom, and both his grandmother and great-grandmother were all gardeners, and I learned a lot from them. My great-grandmother loved to be outside, and we shadowed her there, learning to love yard work as young girls. We learned about flowers, gardens, fruit trees and harvesting, spending time with her.
Kim may have gotten the gardening gene a little stronger than even I did, but its funny that we love different types of flowers and gardens, and that’s ok. I can still see the Lipton instant iced tea jar that was emptied, over and over and refilled with tea in my dadi’s hands, covered in dirt and sweat as this was his drink and vessel of choice while working in the yard.
Dadi, no doubt, is where my love of roses came from and any type of rose, the smell, especially, sends me rushed with memories of my dadi. I can’t remember a house that didn’t have a place for roses to come to life, and nor will I ever have one that doesn’t. I love roses, and all things rose, both their beauty and what their thorns represent. Roses are such a mix of beauty and brokenness, blooms and the crown of thorns, and how grateful I am that the blooms bring so much beauty to the thorns.
Some of my favorite words to describe my sister Kim are SOIL and SOUL. Gardening is therapy to her as well, and she makes beautiful things from dirt. I asked her for a few words, and this is what she said,
“Weeding is pulling out the unnecessary things that clutter or get in the way of making the new things or old things beautiful. Pruning, so the plants can give birth to fresh new things. The whole gardening process makes me feel productive and alive, being outside in nature and hearing all the sounds that God has given us.”
The sounds also make me think of the voices in my garden, the bees humming,
the butterflies' wings, numerous birds, the squirrels breaking into the bird feeders, the buzz of the tiny, but mighty hummingbirds by day and crickets, katydids and cicadas by night.
All of these draw my attention and cause my ears to listen a little harder,
my heart to pause and give render to how amazing God is.
The garden is a silent friend who speaks so loudly with no words, and where not everything that is planted takes root. Some things we plant deep and, likewise, some seeds we just scatter. This lends me to wonder if I’m deeply rooting God’s truth and my faith in Him.
Never doubt the seeds that you plant, and never stop planting. Plant everyday and God’s grace will nurture what you give Him as He scatters grace in your path.
When we were little girls in Acton (Granbury) we had an acre garden and we each had our rows that we were responsible for, that we worked while sweat and dirt covered our small bodies, and Mother was always there. Reflecting, all these years later, little did I know that these would be some of the sweetest times shared with our Mother before her looks and interests changed, before the darkness consumed her. Looking back now and knowing how hard gardening is and what all it takes, I wonder how good of helpers we really were, being our ages, oh but what we learned. Mother was a great teacher and she taught us so much just from being in one small acre of rowed dirt. I’m so proud of my parents for instilling hard work, determination, patience, perseverance and grit into us at such young ages, and I’m grateful that I carried this forward in Taylor.
I was fascinated by planting a seed, covering it loosely with soil and watching it pop up from below the ground, still am. I can remember waiting, longing for the day that I could pull my carrots up or pull the beans, okra or squash from the vine, and I hold memories of me running through the rowed dirt in hopes of finding some colorful treasure, and the disappoint, if not. Carrots were the worst, I wanted to pull them daily and I probably learned a lot of patience through growing carrots. I guess we grew together, carrots and me.
Waiting on the watermelons was the longest string of anticipation, and if I remember correctly, those were the things that were the least successful, sizes ranging from an inch to a foot. We gardened together as a family, providing daily food and jars and jars of what we harvested. These were good times, and I wish Taylor would’ve gotten my love for gardening.
A lot happens from the initial small hole to the sprout of green,
showing life, and a lot happens inside of us when things are planted
in us and our lives, as they are harvested by God.
While sometimes we feel like we’re drowning in the dirt and messiness, God uses that filth to restore us and bring new life. Let your soil be dug up, let Him use you, refine you and bring hope, find out who you are in this season, and what you’re made of.
He’s the God of renewal and redemption. Let Him restore you.
The grass bends beneath my feet, and depending on the season, I can feel the
coolness grab my attention. The smell of the leaves in Fall is
mesmerizing and a part of me gets whiffs of an antique store or a vintage
bookstore, with the scent of old pages alluding. The leaves falling, mixed
in greens, reds and yellows, and cooler winds make their way through our
hair.
Fall and Autumn, frankly right or wrong, I’ve always used these words
interchangeably, when the leaves, like us, let go of what no longer serves
us. Seasons write our stories, make us who we are and allow us to have
compassion on those with similar stories and those who don’t.
Winter makes its way and everything’s asleep and we anticipate what’s to come in the spring. They both lend to lingering, give way to slower paces, allowing us to posture our frames in prayer and gratitude for not only what we’ve been given, but what’s been taken to allow for our growth.
New seasons, bring new soil and new chances for blooms,
growth and life, and we’re grateful for what was and what is.
“Though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand.” – Psalm 37:24 ESV
He molds us and shapes us, prunes us and uproots us, to bring something better, and just like we provide support and nourish our plants, God supports us, and we are better from it.
Is there something that you can let go of, be it significant or minute,
let it go and watch God replace it with something better.
“Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” - Isaiah 43:19 ESV
He provides a path when we’re lost and water when we’re thirsty, hope when there is no hope, so keep planting.