On Monday night for our family time I led the troops as we planted a couple dozen flowers that a friend gave us in the front flower beds. Tuesday I went to this same friend's house where we rototilled the hard ground, threw in some peat moss and then planted twenty or so vegetables.
Tonight I got smarter and waited until the cool evening to go out and plant the cucumber, pepper, tomato, pumpkin, and watermelon plants that this same friend gave me as a thank you for my help.
I am grateful. I am grateful for the chance to put something in the dirt and pray that it grows. I am grateful to have a shot at the nurturing thing. I do okay with people, but plants are much harder for me. Weird, huh?
Faith. Hope that all of my best efforts will somehow pay me back. My new job in the Fall. Going back to school. My growing children, two of whom are adults. My attempts at buoying up my husband when his hands hang down with exhaustion. My little cub scouts.
It is all planting and crossing our spiritual fingers that things work. The worry and wondering are mud. The doubt, weeds. But I don't want to wear those frilly gloves that don't let me feel the soil. I want to dig deep and get messy. I want to harvest.