Good morning…
I returned the tools to my master gardener friend after my husband and I shared our pruning adventure. Now we wait, we watch, we wonder, “What new growth will eventually appear?”
As I shared in yesterday’s blog post, The Power of Pruning, my constantly curious friend taught us about “restoration pruning.” She added “Some call it ‘renewal pruning’.” The word “renewal” got me thinking about the life-giving piece she wrote for our church newsletter this month. With her permission, I share her restorative insights with you.
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A Place for Renewal: Reflections from a Master Gardener, by Nancy Quintrell
The Lord will guide you always;
he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
like a spring whose waters never fail. – Isaiah 58:11
Living in Atlanta, I can appreciate the ancient imagery of a parched land and the gift of endless irrigation. A lifelong Georgia gardener, I’ve endured water restrictions, poor drainage due to red clay, as well as too much heat and too much rain. A bona fide Pike’s Nursery addict, I’ve spent hours planting hydrangeas, azaleas, camellias, and perennials. I’m not picky as long as the plant has a flower. Over the years my garden has become a haven from the busyness of life. Concerns of the day disappear once I slide open the back door and step outside.
Watching my plants grow has nourished my soul, and I’ve received not only beautiful blooms each season but also lessons about life itself. Digging in the dirt, I am humbled knowing that a single handful of earth has more organisms than there are people on earth. I’ve learned patience from sowing seeds and even more from pulling weeds. Always prone to move plants around and wield pruning shears with a vengeance, I’m grateful that nature forgives my many mistakes. However, I did not foresee that while I was tending my garden, God would nurture my soul and reveal his presence even in the darkest of times.
When my husband, Randy, passed away in July, sadness accompanied me like a shadow. Heartbroken, I lost interest in gardening and anything that had previously brought happiness. Even listening to birdsong was difficult because my biologist-turned-lawyer husband loved birds and could recognize their calls. His knowledge of ecology far exceeded mine, and over the years we probably spent as much time together outdoors as in our home. Once he was gone and I was alone, my garden was not inviting. Even my miniature boxwood hedge succumbed to blight. Watching the plants turn brown and die was a metaphor for my own life. Everything had died: my husband, our dog, my plants, and my life as I knew it.
Yet, God stayed near. Despite my despair, I was aware of his presence accompanying me everywhere: a baby praying mantis, a hawk perched high on a branch, and the vegetable garden’s juicy tomatoes. My children were incredibly supportive and our family rejoiced when two grandbabies were born. Angels arrived to walk and listen, supporting me with their friendship and love. Scripture brought solace. Ever so gradually I leaned into the sadness and found the beginning of peace.
Still hesitant to garden, I was headed out for a morning walk when I heard a towhee’s call. I stopped to look for the sparrow among the bushes. As I got close, he flew across the driveway toward the backyard. Watching him, I breathed in slowly. Noticing my garden for the first time in months, I decided it was time to remove the boxwoods and postponed the walk. Shoveling and digging in the dirt again was cathartic, and I sensed God gently caring for my wounded heart. Nourished by the toil, I surveyed my work and smiled. The absence of the boxwood hedge yielded room for more flowers. A new perspective and new opportunity!
I’m still mourning and would describe myself as up, down, and all around. Rather than retreat from my garden, I recognize it as a glimpse of heaven and a place for renewal.
Now…what should I plant next?
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In The Passion Translation of Isaiah 58:11, God’s encouragement sounds like this:
Yahweh will always guide you where to go and what to do. He will fill you with refreshment even when you are in a dry, difficult place. He will continually restore strength to you, so you will flourish like a well-watered garden and like an ever-flowing, trustworthy spring of blessing.
I must tell you, even as she has been pruned back to a dry, difficult place, the opportunity to regularly walk and talk with God and my special friend feels like a source of restorative refreshment, a trustworthy spring of ever-flowing blessing.
…Sue…
