Gardens and Rising Tides
A reminder that change is needed in new seasons.
I had a dream last night.
Ocean waves played in the distance under a cloudy sky. I stood at the edge of a plot of land next to it, houses surrounding it on each side.
Smiling to myself, I thought, I love it here.
Images flashed in my mind of me working to cook in a small shack that I lived in. Looking over to the left, the shack lay in ruins. While I was slightly confused, it was not discouraging. Instead, the thought of rebuilding felt like a sure path that I would take.
Not yet, though.
My bare feet led the way through the grass. Not far off was a garden. It was mostly empty except for a few plants that were thriving, some that were growing, yet most of the garden was empty. It had been well tended in my absence. The dark soil looked freshly watered. Not a single weed threatened the plants or the neat rows.
I remembered harvesting fruit from this garden to cook with. I knew that I would again.
A few steps further took me to the edge of the boisterous ocean. Dropping my bags, I grinned as I felt the wind whip against my face. Whales slapped the top of the water with their tails. Occasionally, I would see the shadow of one swim by in the waves.
The tide didn’t creep in this time like it normally did. Instead, it grabbed for me, rising with each push inland. Scrunching my eyebrows, I left my bags and walked away. My eyes never left the rising waters or the waves that seemed a bit taller each roll.
It wasn’t long before I realized that this was the new norm. It was the reason my shack had fallen. The tide rose quickly each day, but then went back out to sea just as fast.
That’s when the people came. Their things appeared at the water’s edge that the ocean had swept away momentarily. I saw one of my bags, but my purse had been claimed by the sea. There was no alarm. Only peace and a community coming together to reclaim what was theirs.
I took a step toward the water when a man’s voice stopped me.
“What do you think of the garden?” asked a man with tan skin and a dark mustache.
I didn’t say anything, but looked over towards it.
“It’s doing great,” he continued, “I had to pull up most of the plants, but the new ones I planted will be able to stand against the rising tides.”
I nodded my head, then woke up.
What we see in the garden changes with each season. Tulips in the spring, tomatoes in summer, pumpkins in the fall, and winterberry in winter.
Just because plants are removed doesn’t mean the soil is bad. It’s just time for something new. Something that will withstand the elements of that season.
The garden doesn’t look pretty when it is first being cleaned. There’s ripping out old plants. Dirt everywhere. Uneven rows. Even weeds to be pulled.
Yet the cleaning is necessary so it can be prepared. The soil can be turned. The rows neatly laid out again. Seeds gently planted and watered. An entire life and ecosystem beneath our feet that we cannot see.
And the garden never looked better. Pregnant with new life ready to burst forth. A head nodding at a job well done, knowing that while it looks empty now, it won’t be in the future.
This is a lesson that has been taught time and time again. It isn’t new by any means. Yet sometimes we need the reminder that a little cleaning up and pruning is necessary in our own lives to produce fruit that will flourish in a new season.
There are times when the reminder needs to be personal to really make its point, like in a dream.
I thank God for His patience with me in days of pruning. In the times when I grow weary, yet He perfectly times the next devotional I read, Bible study attended, or a friend bringing over a cup of coffee to encourage me. The reminder that not only do I play a role in my community as a servant to others, but that I am also a part of that family that gets taken care of. So:
"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." Galatians 6:9
Don’t be discouraged by the cleaning or an empty-looking garden. Carry on. Steward the things God has entrusted you with already. Remember that He keeps His promises. He is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. You will reap what is sowed in the proper time.
Amen.