From the Flying Pigs

My Garden’s Calling

(I’ve pushed the ‘pause button.’ Sadly, I’d suggest that no one in our nation’s capital is practicing the Nehemiah Way of leadership this week as they focus on political infighting and what Jesus described as ‘Wars and rumors of wars’ – I need a break, so it’s out to the garden.)

Spring is officially still three weeks away, but my garden is calling. Like the US Postal Service motto, “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these …” there are hearty souls who venture into their gardens regardless of the calendar. I just came in after trimming, pruning and weeding. The weather? Oh, it was a balmy 40° with wind gusts to 50 yesterday and today it will be sunny with highs in the 60’s – love that Idaho weather.

It’s a known fact, regardless of the season, gardening is good for your health – physically, mentally (stimulates production of new brain cells in the hippocampus) and emotionally. From the Garden of Eden to our humble backyard, gardens have a rich historical significance. One of the seven ancient ‘Wonders of the World’ were the hanging gardens of Babylon and Solomon wrote “ I made gardens and parks for myself, and I planted in them all kinds of fruit trees…” (Eccl. 2:5)

The great thing about gardening is that one can spend a fortune - it is estimated that Americans spent about $76 billion on their gardens last year or you can be relatively thrifty. Our first real garden venture was named the Beggar’s Garden for a reason.

Along with the aforementioned benefits of gardening, I’d add a profound spiritual satisfaction, like I’m walking in the garden with my creator. In 1912, composer Charles Miles wrote “In the Garden.” Popularized during the Billy Sunday evangelistic campaigns the song imagined meeting his savior – Jesus, in the garden, with this refrain:

“He walks with me, and He talks with me, and He tells me I am His own;

And the joy we share as we tarry there, None other has ever known.”

Years later, his great-granddaughter would remember “It was written in a cold, dreary and leaky basement in Pittman, New Jersey that didn’t have a window in it let alone a view of a garden.” As I said, gardens can appear in all forms.

The ancient Rabbinic Talmud states “Every blade of grass has its own angel that bends over it and whispers ‘Grow! Grow!” My only question is who is bending over the weeds in my garden?

If you’ll excuse me, I think it’s time to visit some of those angels.