Other seeds fell among thorns that grew up and choked out the tender plants.--Matthew 13:7
When we moved onto the farm last summer, I wanted to plant a vegetable garden. We had the perfect spot, which had been used by my sweet father-in-law for his strawberries. It was the perfect location, but in much need of work after three years of neglect.
It was fenced in, green and lush--so peaceful looking as I gazed out at it from my little cafe table in the kitchen. However, much of the verdure was actually weeds. Weeds with flowers, in some cases, but weeds just the same.
Truth be told, the pretty little plot was overgrown. It looked lovely, but weeds had choked out and prevented the growth of anything that would produce a harvest.
I knew that if I wanted fresh veggies, the weeds had to go.
I began pulling. I don't know much about gardening, but I do know that if you want growth the weeds have to go.
Even the pretty ones.
The Cowboy teased me that I was always pulling weeds.
That's because the pesky things kept creeping back.
Any little piece of a weed that didn't get completely tossed out of the garden had a tendency to sink down roots again at an alarming rate.
Even after we planted, it was an every day task to keep the weeds away. If I neglected them too long, eventually they would go to seed and proliferate exponentially.
Even the pretty ones.
Like busy-ness. Saying "yes" to too much makes me look pretty and productive to the world..but eventually it leads to "no" to what gives life.
"No" to time alone with my Savior, drawing life and breath that will allow me to bear fruit.
"No" to nourishing my close relationships--instead the crowding weeds cause me to become rushed, stressed and sharp with those I affect most deeply.
As I approach the end of this school year, I resolve to spend my summer pulling weeds.
Out in the garden, and within my life. Only what will produced a harvest will remain.
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