There’s a house around the corner from mine, on a corner itself. There’s nothing remarkable about it. . . until you see the backyard. Each summer, someone in that house plants the most meticulous garden. We’re talking rows of corn, pumpkin vines trailing in a little patch, cucumbers draping over a tall arched gate, carefully plotted onions and carrots, tomatoes popping red among the greenery, watermelons, and whatever else I can identify as I peek in on daily walks or drives past that corner. There are also fruit trees — apples and pears and something else I can’t quite make out without actually trespassing. So I smile at the idea of whatever is growing in that corner of the yard.
It’s a beautiful little sanctuary, and I just imagine the sweet gardener making it all happen.
How cool, I think to myself. What a gift to cultivate a little bitty homestead right here smack-dab in the middle of suburbia. I sure wish I could, but my yard doesn’t lend itself to a new garden plot. I have a couple of raised beds tucked under the eave on one side, and that’s about all I can muster.
Then, over the last several weeks, months even, I noticed the produce in that sweet garden had become overgrown and begun to rot right where it was once so carefully tended. The watermelons are splitting. Apples lay brown and slimy underneath the tree. The corn stalks are brown and brittle-looking. The hardy tomatoes still pop bright red against the withering plants while whole onions lay on top of the soil, unearthed by who knows what.
Whoever once so carefully planted all of that glory has let it just go to seed, to rot and waste.
Now when I drive or walk past the corner house, I shake my head, tsk-ing under my breath. What a shame, I think to myself. A full-on harvest, just sitting there, ripe and waiting to be picked and enjoyed. Who would do that? Why would they do that? I wonder.
It’s hard for me to understand because as a rule-follower, I do think we are responsible for what we’ve planted, responsible for sowing whatever grows. It’s up to us to look for the fruit. Jesus talks a whole bunch about gardening, and sowing, and reaping, and plants, and weeds. He says our faith can be as small as a mustard seed and yet move mountains. He speaks of burning weeds, of threshing floors full of chaff, and whispers echo of the Eden that could’ve been. Shouldn’t we pay attention?
Of course.
But also, we must have grace when we see another’s untended garden.
I don’t know what’s going on in this neighbor’s life. For all I know, whoever carefully planted that garden moved out. Maybe they were injured, or got really busy with a new job, or just plain didn’t feel like keeping up with it. I’ve never even met whoever lives there, so it can’t be up to me to make judgments on what they’re doing with their garden, badly as I want to (and I’ve had to hold myself back from trespassing to pick my fill!).
Perhaps that owner looks out the window at the apples falling off the tree, and gives thanks for being able to spend time with an aging parent, instead of doing yard work. Maybe they see the vegetables, once excitedly planned for and now bruised and pocked, and give thanks for time well spent planting it with a loved one.
I think about my own garden beds, sitting empty and unplanted in my backyard. For the last several years, I’ve planted those two raised garden beds and worked on them all summer, but this year, for whatever reason, I just couldn’t pull myself together enough to do it. I was busy, it was hot, and I guess that was all it took to deter me. In the same way, I’ve thought about how easy it might be for a passerby to assume that the wear and tear on my home is overlooked or even intentional. We could use new siding, new windows, and definitely some landscaping. The kids’ toys stay strewn about longer than I’d like, and the fire pit needs a thorough cleaning out.
When I start to look with exasperation at the never-ending project list that is my house, I could reframe it with the same grace I’m learning to extend my non-gardening neighbor. I could remember the fun Friday nights spent with family and friends around that bonfire pit, laughing and talking till there was nothing but glowing coals. I could remember sunny Saturday afternoons when the kids played outside for hours. I could give thanks for my well-worn, lived-in, cozy home instead of just seeing repairs that need to be made.
Maybe it’s the same with that garden. Maybe for whatever reason, unnecessary for me to know, that gardener simply can’t get out to maintain and harvest it. Should I knock on the door to help? Well, that’s another post for another day. But for now, what I can offer is a small smile as I drive by, a hefty dose of grace, and nothing but kindness in my heart no matter what I see languishing in the garden — and that extends to my own home and heart too.
I can promise to try, anyway.
I. Just. Love. These words here you have written to touch my heart. Thank you for offering grace this morning to my overburdened almost cracked-open heart.
Thank you Anna for sharing your heart. About Neighbours Gardens intended. I remember a lady now in Glory with Jesus. She always keep her garden in good shape. She used have a Cherry tree daffodils Roses. Pick some to make her house nice the daffodils and Roses. She say thank you God for all the beautiful colours in my garden and the birds that sing in it. Then she say look at all the different kinds of birds especially the Robins. With there breast so lovely and red. For helping them to grow the tree and the flowets. But when she got she couldn’t attend them and go outside to in joy them. It would get her. As she thought it was being untended and not loved. When I was we used to play under my Grannies big chestnut tree when alive and collect the chestnuts. Have a game to see who’s chestnuts were the biggest. The leaves were just beautiful and it lovely the green leaves with a bit of orange through them. We had cherry tree when growing up. Both my Neighbour in Glory and my Mum when alive. Use to look at the cherry tree and when it blossomed say how lovely. Then when the leaves of flowers would fall of like a big pink blanket on the lawn. Says how lovely the law looks. IYou hear the birds singing as well. I remember singing at Sunday School and at Church especially at Harvest. “All things bright and beautiful the Lord God made them. Each flower that opens he made their colours and each bird that sings he had their tiny wings.” That is so true God made them all. Like the cherry tree the daffodils and the roses birds with all there different colours. It amazing how God made them and so beautiful. God makes us beautiful by caring for us as Christians too. With love in our hearts. So we could share his beauty like all ithe tree flowers and plants in gardens that are so beautiful. Then the birds that sing in them I say Amen to that. Love Dawn Ferguson-Little Enniskillen Co.Fermanagh N.Ireland xx
Oh, Anna. Such wonderful words to read this morning. I just moved into a new home that has been much neglected for many years- inside and out. I look at the bushes and trees needing trimming, the leaves needing to be raked, etc. I now have that garden. I have moved up the road from where I used to live. My husband kept the fields, the gardens and the lawns looking so neat and trim. The new owners have left it all go wild. It drives me crazy at times since they are a young couple who work from home. I wonder often why they leave it as such. When I am inside the house, I look at each room that needs more than a quick coat of paint, especially the bathroom and kitchen. The house was built in 1960 and has never been updated! But as long as the weather is nice (and it is only a matter of time before it isn’t), I take lots of opportunities to be with friends, volunteering, and the like. Maybe that young couple is doing the same?
Dawn,
You and I share a lot in common. When I look around, I see all that there is to do, I don’t always extend myself grace … Although I’m getting better. We all need Grace so I shared your devotional the on Twitter.
Sending you autumn joy, Lisa
Well said, Anna! I have no right to throw stones either! I will try to be more loving and accepting.
Beautiful words. I think we all can wonder and let our curiosity run a little. A lot of the time I’m bad about assuming something. We just need to remember to extend grace. Everyone has a different life and story and that is part of what makes us all unique.
So beautiful.
A shifting season.
It sounds like Mother Nature needs to be nurtured.
Anna,
We have good intentions like the neighbor’s garden. Then life happens. It gets busy. We can’t find the time or the energy to keep up what we started. Everyone needs to extend grace to others & themselves as well. It is more important to be present & enjoy time with or help family members out. The house projects, gardens, etc. can wait. For now extend grace to each other.
Blessings 🙂