Keeping Fresh, Keeping Green by Sandi Somers

Prompt:In spring, the world turns fresh and green. How do you keep yourself and your writing fresh as you produce new articles, books or songs without burn-out or repeating the same ideas?

A New Way of Gardening

When I moved to my current house near the edge of Calgary, I had visions of beautiful flower beds with crocuses and tulips, with petunias lining my driveway, and with perennials filling the back yard.

It was not to be.

Gradually as new houses were built up around me, coyotes moved away, and as a result, rabbits increased. And to my dismay, most of my favourite flowers made delectable rabbit dinner. They also loved my lettuce, even carrot, onion and beet tops. As the rabbits got bolder, they hopped up on my porch and nibbled at my potted plants.

How could I keep my flowerbeds and garden fresh and green?

I asked for advice from gardening experts, got a list of rabbit-proof plants, and experimented with new flowers. However, the rabbits hadn’t read that list and ate some of my new “rabbit-proof” plants anyway.

At first it was discouraging, but as I developed a new system, I discovered pink geraniums and white alyssum made an attractive display. I put my petunias in tall pots. 

Like redoing my gardening, my writing sometimes needs to be revamped. Just recently I looked at several articles in progress and knew God has deeper answers to questions of faith than I had planned.

How to develop those thoughts that would encourage my readers? I began listening more carefully to my pastor’s sermons, discovering new seeds of meaning that related to my writing. Discussing matters of life and faith with friends has broadened my perspective. Finding new and challenging artist’s dates breathes in new life to me.

But mostly I meditate more deeply in Scripture, asking God for wisdom and new insight.

And I know the Holy Spirit will infuse my writing with a freshness it didn’t have before.

Now over to you. How do you keep your writing fresh and green?

The Day I Faced My Failure - M. Laycock

This time of year makes me a bit jittery. It’s that time when people ask, “Do you garden?” I take that question personally. I guess it’s a hold-over from my Yukon days, but I always have the feeling the person is really asking, “What are you good for, anyway?” The question always makes me squirm because I’m not good at gardening. I inherited my mother’s black thumb. I’m death to fruits and vegetables.

Not that I haven’t tried. For twelve Yukon summers I dutifully planted rows of cabbage and broccoli, peas and lettuce. Once I replanted three times when late frost hit, only to have it all wilt from an early one in August. With a season of twenty-four hour sunlight, the plants that survived grew furiously but so did the weeds. A neighbour once drove by, honked and called out – “Tendin’ the weed bed, are ye?”

I wanted to give up, but at the end of each summer, I harvested what had managed to survive. I was thankful there was a grocery store in town. We surely would have starved if we’d had to live on what I could grow.

When we moved to Alberta, I anticipated the “game” would go on. When spring arrived I dutifully got out my spade and tested the ground in the back yard. But, oh, woe is me, it was full of roots! The large old cottonwood in the corner of the yard had spread its thick underground fibers far and wide. My husband took a turn at the spade but could find not a single spot suitable to till. Such a pity.

Having an excuse eased the guilt, but I feared my failure was apparent to world. When friends asked if I wanted their harvested leftovers I always said yes, with thanks, but had that nagging suspicion they were pitying me. I knew I was a failure. So did they.

Then one day, a friend asked if I’d like some potatoes. Seems she’d planted way too many and they all grew wonderfully (of course!). My family and I spent a morning digging up her potato patch. It was one of those special times - a glorious morning with the smell of earth freshened by rain and the delight of children’s voices in the crisp fall air. But the most wonderful part was the look on my friend’s face as we loaded the boxes of tubers into our vehicle.

“I just love being able to do this,” she said. “Thanks for coming out.”

The power of her words hung in the air around me for days as a simple truth sank in. There were things I loved doing that could be a blessing to others. I don’t have to be good at everything. It’s okay to be a failure at gardening.

1Peter 4:10 says – “Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God’s grace in its various forms.” My friend did a great job of that the day she invited us to her potato patch. On that day I started admiring the work of people with green thumbs, without feeling guilty. They have that gift. I have another.

I cultivate words, tilling until there are no weeds, pruning away the excess so the fruit can shine through. God’s gift to me has blessed others as, like my friend with the potato patch, I’ve administered the grace and passed it on to readers all over the world. I no longer feel guilty about my black thumb, or about the many things I can’t do that others can. I feel blessed by what I’ve been given and how God has used it to bless others.

 

Marcia Lee Laycock writes from Central Alberta Canada. Her devotionals have been endorsed by Mark Buchanan and Phil Callaway. She was the winner of the Best New Canadian Christian Author Award for her novel, One Smooth Stone. Visit her website - www.vinemarc.com