Methinks my own soul must be a bright invisible green.
- Henry David Thoreau
I like to think that my soul is a bright green as well, the color of new leaves, new grass, and new growth. It’s a welcome color after the dark of winter. If my soul could be another color, it would be brown like soil, rich and full of life. And if my soul were a garden I like to think that Jesus would walk there. He is the master gardener, stooping to pull up weeds, and getting his hands dirty. He knows how to cut back the old growth so new can come.
I grew up in rural Maine, and on our 4 acres there were several flower beds and one large garden. My dad transferred his love of gardening to me. He grew up on a farm in the Catskills, and the smell of soil never left his blood. It apparently hasn’t left me either, even though I live in a condo in the middle of a city. I grow as many plants as I can without causing my husband to trip over them. They don’t really serve any useful purpose, the three african violets, one miniature rose, and one croton plant, except providing the cat with a toy every now and then when I’m not looking. They may not be useful, but they are necessary. Small as they are, they help keep me connected to the larger creation and to God’s role in my spiritual growth.
To those of you who feel the same Spring-like leanings, I’d like to recommend a few books we carry which explore gardens in the Bible, in our back yard, and in our own hearts.
March 19, 2010 at 1:35 pm Comments (0)