Hello friends,
I’m missing the summer, and it’s just killing me. It’s been a scorcher, after months of snow and rain. Rain, that’s a laugh. It’s been one deluge after another, here in the mid-Atlantic, and I feel guilty complaining at all, since we have escaped the horrendous flooding of the mid-west. Our skies are sunny, now, and our land is greener than any I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been far and wide. But this summer, I’ve been stuck indoors.
At sixty-four, I have less stamina than I did when I was young. I lived in my garden, while raising my children across this country. Raising children on military bases always included a garden, no matter how small. Even then, however, the heat of summer could fold me in half, but now, I fold in half, almost before I open the door. Yet, in the cool of early morning, as I bring out our tumbling, barking, passel of pampered puppies, I look out on all that God has given me in this one acre lot, and I am thankful.
Just off our back deck is a beautiful flowering pear tree. Tall and strong, I can remember when I planted it as a twig. One little seedling, planted by this rank amateur, has grown into a towering, flowering wonder in spring, and a bountiful harvest in fall for flocks of migrating birds. This tree is one of many that I have planted, with the enthusiastic encouragement and help of my husband and daughters. And when I can do nothing, they do it for me, out of unselfish, generous hearts.
So, if I cannot divide the lily bulbs that are begging to be divided; if I cannot withstand the heat for a moment in this dreadful summer, I know I can depend on my family to do what I cannot. Looking at my husband and beautiful daughters, toiling where and when they can, I can honestly say, perhaps they are my best garden of all.
My husband, tall and strong is greater than the tallest tree in our garden. He has withstood the tempests that have buffeted us in our life together, always faithful, loyal, and full of love. No towering oak has done as much as he to shade me from life’s harms.
My husband was a sailor when I met him, and he retired after twenty years from the Navy as a U.S. Navy Chief Electrician. Those years in the Navy, raising my daughters were a blessing, and, yet filled with tribulation. Our first Christmas in our new house, I gave him a small picture of a boy, holding a small boat, while standing at the edge of a tempest tossed sea. The caption under the picture reads: “Father, the sea is so large, and my ship is so small. Have mercy.” I think of that when life is hard to bear.
Father in heaven, my garden is large, and my strength is small. Have mercy. Lord, my health is marginal, and I long to be in my garden. Have mercy. And Lord, bless all gardeners who lift their eyes towards the heavens. May they know that they are not alone. I pray that they understand that You are with them. Lord, I ask You, for their sakes, too, have mercy.
With love,
