Tuesday, June 2, 2020

a lesson from the garden

During this COVID 2020 season, I had the chance to look around my house and see how in disrepair it had fallen.

The fall of 2014 found me mysteriously ill 6 months after my last baby was born. My hands, arms and legs broke out in a mysterious rash. All my doctor could tell me was to switch my clothes detergent and referred me to a dermatologist. The dermatologist never gave me a firm diagnosis and kept giving me prednisone. Now, if on a good day, I'm Mr. Furious (from Mystery Men), on prednisone, I'm the Hulk's sister. Ten months of that. Two babies in diapers. I was not getting better. My hands would be so cracked with eczema that they would bleed as I tried to change diapers. I wept as I cleaned the house. I finally went rouge and went to an allergist who properly diagnosed me as being allergic to 60 different chemicals and fragrances. He gave me a "safe list" of products I could use. Despite that, I often stood in the aisles of stores crying not being able to find specific baby wipes or at the astronomical price of the products I could use. 

It took a good four years to get to a place where I felt "well." I discovered my diet had a lot to do with keeping me inflamed which kept my hands covered with eczema. 

March 2020, I stood on my back patio and shook my head at how I had let my house look like it was two episodes away from being on "Hoarders." Before I got too down on myself, I had to remind myself: Brick was born in 2012 via c-section... I got pregnant with Hank 15 months later... another c-section and tubal... 6 months after Hank was born, I got sick. So I had to give myself a high five for just keeping us alive during this time. 

But here we were, quarantine... shut down... shelter at home... shelter in place... all these new words thrown at us. So I did what I do best when I'm stressed: I go to work.

Between working my job remotely and pandemic schooling my boys, I started to work on the house. Nothing makes me feel more in control then cleaning... 

Outside in our small back yard, it looked like Jungle Book. Over grown spots, weeds, vines covered places that were meant to be exposed to the sun.

When I feel particularly stressed, I go to work outside... and I realized something (again) that may be very elementary to some Christians... but to me, the reminder was significant...

You've got to tend to the garden regularly or the weeds will over take the ground....

Some of you may be like "well, duh, Buffy!" 
I mean, I know it's something I KNOW.... 
but when the circumstances of life force you to just SURVIVE... well, it seemed that my garden did not THRIVE.

Let me tell you... did you know poison ivy grew in vines? Well, the poison ivy in my yard... I'd find a sprig.... pull on it (with my heavy duty gloves) and I'd find a VINE.... and as I kept pulling.... the vine grew longer and longer and longer... until I finally found the root!

And isn't that just like sin! Isn't that just like burdens that we tend to carry around? 
Circumstances hit.... we are trying to just survive... and the enemy takes the chance to slowly choke us out with sins and burdens... and the growth is slow... so that we don't even realize it's happening...

So something good has come out of this time of sheltering in place... we have been able to tend to the garden and see the weeds that need to be pulled up... 

Is this what Paul meant in 1 Corinthians 15:31- "I die every day..." every day, we have to tend to the weeds in our spiritual gardens. And that takes intention... that takes attention... and it takes time. 

Slow down, Beloved... the Great Gardener of our hearts longs to sit with you in your garden and tend to the things that are worrying you and weighing you down.