The Garden as a Lesson in Growth-- Carolyn Wilker

        

I’m teaching my granddaughters who are 4 and 6 about gardening. It's an ongoing lesson. They enjoy helping me plant and giving the plants a drink. I’m sure they’d be like me, as a child, if it was a large garden, dreading the long rows, but ours are much shorter than the large garden we had on the farm. 

posing at the garden with her own tools

The garden teaches about growing. After sowing seeds, we look forward to seeing those first shoots poke above the ground. The children are gentle with the tender small plants that we set in the ground. They know that water helps the plants grow and so they love to get out the watering can and help it along.

ready with the watering can

The shoots are those first signs that something is happening underground, just as when we begin to learn something new. An interesting thought begins to work its way into our mind. It brings more questions and then the desire to learn more about that appealing topic.

As in the garden, where there’s enough sun and rain, growth happens. The plants produce blossoms, signs of continuing growth and promise of fruit. The same thing goes for people when they are encouraged and taught. And it’s not just in children. Give adults enough encouragement and opportunity, and they produce fruit too.

Perhaps that’s why my father so liked trees. He’d see the results of the trimming and pruning to give the tree a chance to grow stronger. He helped it along and watched nature do the rest. And he guided and taught us too.        

  My father worked the land. It was part of his livelihood, but part of his passion too, and his interest in the environment went alongside it. Preparing the soil by ploughing and cultivating, feeding it—albeit with that smelly stuff called ‘manure’—and then later, putting in the seed.

That’s not the only lesson of the garden. Plants die at the end of a season. When the blossoms are spent and the plant is done producing, it withers and fades. If we leave the plant in the garden to break down, it leaves food for the next planting season.

When humans die, especially those we love, young or old, it’s definitely painful. The body grows old and becomes weary and can no longer thrive as it once did, as it did for my Dad. We grieve and know that death is part of life, and that it's hard. And we know there's more to come. We realize that lessons imparted along the way can help the next generation grow and mature too.

At Dad’s funeral just one month ago, our theme for his service was trees. One of my sisters had the brilliant, and very fitting, idea to give out white pine seedlings to people who’d come to remember our father. All 200 tree seedlings arrived just in time—the day before the service. Another sister created tags and attached them, and all of the tiny trees found a home.

The cross Dad built from a tree, in the sanctuary for his service

Our grandchildren will watch their trees grow, and they will water them too, encouraging the little seedlings to spread their roots and grow tall. And for those smaller ones who won’t remember their Great-Grandpa as well, they can watch the tree grow as their parents tell them the story of one they loved.

 

my father

“A time to plant, a time to reap.” The philosopher in Ecclesiastes (3:2) must have been a gardener too.

our tiny seedling

Carolyn R. Wilker is an editor and author from southwestern Ontario. 

Random Acts . . . Paying it Forward by Peter A. Black

Credit: waywardcyclist.com

We got here so fast, it seems, on the threshold of summer – a season for observing the process of growth and development of what was sown in spring.

Whereas spring speaks to our human need for awakening to new possibilities and taking steps to prepare for them, summer speaks of our need for growth in person and character and spiritual grace.  
Here's my column article (modified) published today in The Standard Guide Advocate):
~~~
“Two shot dead and three wounded, one with life-threatening injuries, in what is believed to be a random act of violence . . .” Such headlines are all too common. In this opening news scenario the randomness of the murderous act didn’t exist alone; there would have been an element of intentionality on part of the perpetrator of the crime. Thankfully there are other kinds of random acts.

Recently, my Beloved and I met out of town with another couple for lunch and a visit. When ready to leave we asked for our bills. Surprise! Surprise!
“There are no bills – someone already paid for your meals,” the server smiled. “Wow! That’s wonderful, but how may we thank our benefactor?” I asked. “Oh, you can’t,” she said, “The person wishes to remain anonymous.” 

Credit: mainstreettales.com

Perhaps the generous individual left home that morning with the thought of performing a random act of kindness for someone. However, they couldn’t have known until that lunch hour to whom they would direct their generosity, for May and I drove almost an hour to the location, while our lunch friends journeyed about the same from the opposite direction.

Individuals, couples and other groups were dining there at the same time as we, and yet we were the ones who became recipients of that random act of generosity.

Ever experienced either of those types of randomness? You were the happy recipient of some unforeseen act of kindness? Or you were dismayed to find yourself on the receiving end of an evil hostile deed?

Kind, generous friends of ours received a nasty surprise several weeks ago when their home was broken into and they were robbed. And yet, I know these friends won’t stop doing good; they’ll continue to trust God and perform gracious deeds.

The phrase “Paying it forward” has buzzed around in recent years. It’s an OK term. One way we can pay a kindness forward is to perform a kind deed – perhaps a similar one – for someone else, randomly. That is, to do it spontaneously and unpretentiously, with no expectation of reward, especially if remaining anonymous.

Goodness multiplies when people do kind things for others who, in turn, sow seeds of kindness in the soil of other folk’s lives and circumstances, because their harvest yields even more seed to be sown. Therefore, more people receive benefit, for when the receivers act in grace, paying it forward, the world becomes so much brighter and better a place and God’s light and love shine through.

In contrast, when evil is repeated and paid forward the world grows darker. Anger, hate and revenge ensue, families feud against each other, criminal elements even up their scores, while tribes and nations go to war and kill and maim.

A senior lady and her daughter’s pleasant trail walk ended when the mom fell. She was quite shaken up and sustained gravel cuts. A lady offered assistance. Later the mom said, “I was blown away . . . didn’t even know the woman, yet she helped my daughter get me up again. She took us to her home nearby so I could bathe and dress my bleeding knee and scraped up hands, and even provided adhesive bandages. Such kindness . . . She insisted we stay for coffee and scones.”

Remember the Good Samaritan? His random act of compassionate kindness was also intentional. Amazing isn’t it? God’s kingdom comes as we live in grace intentionally, amidst the seeming randomness of life’s circumstances.

~~+~~

~ Raise Your Gaze ... Mindful Musings of a Grateful Heart

~ Parables from the Pond

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Grow Up! Tracy Krauss

1 Corinthians 13:11  “When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things.”

Our prompt this month encouraged us to write about growth. I can think of many ways I have grown in my both my writing life and my spiritual life.

Just as pruning encourages new growth, criticism and even rejection can teach one how to be a better writer. I've endured my share of such 'training', and even now I look back at some of my early published work and wish I could re-do many things that now jump out at me. Actually, I hope to do just that. I plan to eventually re-publish my entire backlist once the rights for each piece have been reverted back to me. Beyond my growth as a writer, I am amazed by how far I've come on the tech side of things. After my first book came out in 2009, the learning curve was steep in terms of marketing, promotion, learning about social media and so forth. I know I am still growing and learning every day, so I try to keep an open mind when it comes to these things.

I've also learned a thing or two in my time as a Christian. I accepted the Lord way back in March of 1982. There have been mountain top experiences, many long plateaus, and even a few dips. Overall, I can chart the progress, however, and can say with confidence that I am a more mature Christian now than I was back then. 

My husband and I have been in ministry on and off for many of these years. We are currently just finishing up as interim pastors of our church, which has been without a regular pastor for almost two years. It has been another learning experience since each congregation has its own unique strengths and weaknesses.  One thing that has struck me this time around is how the length of time as a Christian doesn't necessarily equal spiritual maturity. Unfortunately there are a few folks who are disgruntled about one thing or another and they don't mind sharing it! The lack of maturity is astounding at times, especially when it comes to issues that are of no eternal value...

But enough of that. Like the scripture says at the top, there comes a time when we must put away childishness as it pertains to immaturity, and act like adults. This doesn't mean we should stop being childlike when it comes to the wonder of God and the enjoyment of the life he has given us. In that case, we are to become like little children. 

I expect that I will look back a month, a year, a decade from now and see growth in both my spiritual life and my writing life. As my dear friend Jacqueline used to say, "Age is only a number." She lived up to this motto on a daily basis. Jacqueline was one of those people that 'sparkled'. She was full of vivacious energy, was fun-loving and energetic, had a positive outlook on life, and loved Jesus with all her heart. (And she never lost her sense of style! No frumpy old lady clothes for her!) Thankfully, when cancer struck at 87, she went quickly with dignity and grace. 

It's true. Age IS only a number. It has nothing to do with one's maturity or growth as a human being. There are many baby adults out there and a few very wise young ones, too. May we all aspire to be in the 'wise' camp, realizing that each one of us still has a lot of growing to do. 

All Things Bright and Beautiful—Carolyn Wilker

When I was a little girl in Sunday School, I learned the song “All Things Bright and Beautiful.” As a five-or six-year-old, it didn’t matter who wrote the song. Neither was it important that the song was ages old, only that it was something that I cared about.

On researching this song, I see that it was written originally as a poem in the 1800s, specifically for young children. Cecil Frances Alexander wrote about flowers that open, ripe fruit in the garden, birds that sing, and how God made and loves them all. After singing the song so often in Sunday School, much of it is deeply rooted in my memory.

One line came to me as I walked through our local farmer’s market last week: “The ripe fruits in the garden, he made them everyone.” I knew what I would write about this week. Such a wonderful array of colour—the red of apples and raspberries, the green of pears, peas and beans,  pink blush on peaches, purple eggplant and so much more.

No end to the bounty from people’s gardens. It reminded me of the garden we had when I was growing up and my first garden as a young 4-H member.

Tomatoes from my garden

It’s no wonder then that I come home with plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables. Peaches, apples, tomatoes, potatoes, red pepper and more.  No wonder my kitchen smells like a canning factory in summer. This summer it has already been filled with the scent of tomatoes and peaches as I made fruit relish, and cucumbers and dill for dill pickles. There will be peaches too, when I get to them.

Of course, it’s a lot of work keeping a garden. We have one at our home—very small compared to the one my mother kept, or even my garden when I was 13. We prepare the soil, cultivate and till until the soil is soft and friable. After marking out long straight rows, it’s time to plant seeds; then after the plants start to grow, the thinning and the weeding. I wondered some days if we’d ever get to the end of the row.

 There was time in the garden picking strawberries, peas or beans, and afterwards podding the peas and “snibbling” the beans. We relied on sunshine and rain for the plants to produce their fruits, then ate the produce fresh from the garden, and preserved even more for winter. The overflow we shared with our neighbours or friends who came to our garden to pick what we didn’t need and put extra food on their tables.

Additionally, for two summers our family grew cucumbers for the Matthews-Wells Company. We had green fingers, literally, from picking every other day, rain or shine. Every time we passed the pickle aisle in the grocery store for years afterwards, we remembered those hours in the garden.

At the end of a growing season, after all the harvest was in, my mother had the satisfaction of enough food stored up to feed her family until the next summer. Not too much, but enough in jars and freezer bags. Then in winter, my mother bought only those fruit or vegetables we didn’t grow, and we ate well until the next growing season.

 This morning after writing my column, I went out to my garden and picked fresh tomatoes and basil. We still rely on the sunshine and rain—and during a drought, our water barrels.  I feel that same satisfaction when harvest is in, and in winter when we eat peaches, tomatoes or beans, that we can enjoy the food before us.

 Indeed, we have many gifts from our creator who has good things in store for us.

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http://carolynwilker.ca/book.shtml

Allegory of a Nest - Smith Meyer

It’s just an empty nest in a maple tree that has been visible all winter. Occasionally it was mounded with freshly fallen snow, sometimes coated with freezing rain—cold and uninviting. That vacant nest signified fledglings now matured and flown. The haven of possibility now barren.

The scene bore a marked resemblance to the writing area of my mind. My latest fledgling grown, matured and in print, the creative nest sitting cold and bare for several months now. Oh, the winter activity blustered and blew around it. The death of my brother, my cousin and three other close acquaintances just amplified the barrenness of this season in my life and the stark emptiness of the nest that once cradled creativity. The frigid snow attempted to cover and beautify it, but no life stirred inside.

Then came the warm days of last week—the pungent aromas of spring in the air, the snow melting like a piece of chocolate on the warm tongue of the sun-drenched earth, the first tips of daffodils peeking through the mulch in the flowerbed. They reminded me of the recent day I spoke to a group of precious women eager to learn and stretch their boundaries. Two came afterward to tell me how they had grown in self-understanding through reading my books. That affirmation, like the sun with the daffodils, pushed the pregnant bulb of creativity within me to stretch toward the light.

From the daffodils, my eyes travelled upward to the maple. The still-bare branches continued to support that same nest, but something was different. In my mind, instead of emptiness, I saw great potential—almost as if the nest was sporting a sign “Available for Immediate Occupancy.” That nest and my mind seemed suddenly to be wide open to new possibilities. The winter has ended My heart is filled with longing to once more hatch ideas that stir within me—the desire to see a whole new nest full of inspirational stories and writing is waiting to be given wings.