Yesterday I took a peaceful retreat to my garden following exercising. My two older kids were having some quiet time and the baby was sleeping, so I stepped into my garden for a little Mommy time to weed and think. I had a few good thoughts worth remembering while trying to weed the pea patch.
My peas have had a rough start. I planted them plenty early, but I didn't get their supports and twine up until they had already grown a foot and a half tall, so they started trying to strangle each other in an effort to grow. To make matters worse, the whole crop was attacked by millions of aphids, nasty tickly creatures--no amount of ladybugs or assassin bugs could conquer these troops--so they had to be sprayed, and then I was a bit slow about weeding. Yesterday proved to be a bit of a chore.As I started in I found it difficult to determine what was weed and what was pea vine. The late construction of the support system and weakness of my soul sucked plants meant that some of the peas were still tangled along the ground struggling to reach skyward. No climbing means no flowers, therefore no peas, so I had to help them out. I tried to carefully untangle them, but many vines were broken in the process. Once most were up though, I could kind of see the weeds so I attacked vigorously. And found myself accidentally pulling my plants up by the roots. Some of these peas were several feet long and had grown curving in and around themselves and among the weeds. Their bottom stems had lost their leaves without light and dulled in color, camouflaging themselves in the weeds so I couldn't see what was or wasn't a weed or vine. After re-planting several unfortunate peas (which are probably doomed), I was forced to slow down and carefully inspect each weed before pulling only one at a time.
This slower pace and my guilty pea murdering conscience started me on thinking about children and how they are like these pea plants. They too start out very delicate, easily broken, requiring timely gentle guidance and support as they reach heavenward. When young, like the peas, they naturally reach upward, heavenly and innocent. But as they grow, they sway and must grab onto something strong, or they may fall, become entangled, and forget which way is up.Once peas are established they are strong and immovable and produce very good fruit. But they need a strong scaffolding to climb, to support them as they grow. They need to be carefully weeded so they can have ample opportunity to receive nourishment from the sun and soak up water. They must remain clean of parasitic pests that would suck the life out of them.
I hope that as a parent, I am guiding my tender young children in such a way as to provide the scaffolding they need to reach heavenward and be strong. A child's scaffolding is a little more intense than for the peas. It isn't built in just a day. It must be built everyday, piece by piece, prayer by prayer, one family home evening or scripture study at a time. One thoughtful discipline, one act of courage at a time.
I know generally how to build a scaffolding, but like with my garden this year, I also know that I will probably make some mistakes along the way. Every plant is different, and I might miss some weeds, or my little plants may get blighted, aphid-like, beyond my natural control. I hope that I may be in tune with the Master Gardener so I may know how best to help my tender plants. I don't want to get over excited and ferociously weed, pulling up their roots in a frightened frenzy. Ouch!
But if I do pull them up, I pray they might forgive me as we replant and try to repair the damage together with our Savior.
This child rearing thing is a very delicate business. I am quite a beginner, lacking patience at times with weeds that don't want to pull up or are too close to the vines, with plants that won't grab onto the scaffolding right when I expect them to. Some days you just have to let the garden rest and pray that it'll be okay. Some days the plants just need water, not weeding. Sometimes you just need to let the plants grow.
In the meantime, I work on my own scaffolding. I am a parent, but I am also a pea that is still growing, still reaching for heaven. Still weeding, still watering, ever twisting closer to my Father in Heaven. In the end, I know my little peas will need to learn to continue reaching and building on their own. We will be able to help each other, to support each other, but each individual plant has got to reach for the light and keep growing no matter what. Sometimes that is hard to remember to do.I am a gardener, and I am a pea. I build scaffolding for me and for them. I trust in the Master Gardener to help me grow and to help me nurture.
I love my gardens.
