Day 40: Lessons From The Garden

This weekend I was working outside in the garden getting it ready for the planting season. It's a great place to think and work at the same time. God is reflected in Nature, and so a lot of the spiritual life has a parallel in the natural world, since it is His handiwork. Here are a few things I was reflecting on:

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The Weakest Link

I had a perimeter fence two feet high made from chicken wire, as well as a slanted wire deer fence. It's a pain to get into the garden with the fence up, it's costly, and is somewhat of an eyesore. I realized that despite how much time and effort and money it took to put up this protection, something was still nibbling at the kale and chard. How was it getting in? A fence, even a 150' foot long one like mine, is only as good as it's weakest spot. If a rabbit is able to burrow down and dig underneath, the whole thing is pretty much useless.

So I started retrenching the chicken wire. It was a lot of back breaking work, and after a couple hours I was only a quarter of the way done. "Forget it," I told my wife, "the fence is coming out." And I took it all out. This is going to be an experimental year, then--how much more of my crop will I lose with no fence vs a fence like in years past. I realized I'll probably lose a good bit of my crop to wildlife if I'm not careful, so I am trying to adopt the mindset of non-expectation; I don't expect to harvest anything this summer, so anything on top of nothing is a bonus. I plan to cover with thin netting as a precaution for the low-level crops like beets, turnips, chard, kale, and mesclun. I'm not going to plant certain things that are susceptible, and I'm planning to plant other things that animals don't like (like onions). I'm expecting to lose it all, so I will be pleasantly surprised if I don't.

Fences protect what's inside, but they only work when they are uncompromising and secured consistently. My fence became useless because I didn't secure it or trench it in. Likewise, as Paul says, "let there not be a hint of immorality among you" (Eph 5:3), and "a little yeast leavens the whole batch." (1 Cor 5:6)

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Transplants and Converts

When it comes to gardening there are two ways to plant--you can sow your seed directly in the garden outside, or transplant seedlings. There are some advantages and disadvantages to both methods. Pros of direct seed is it's easier, plants tend to have better root systems and seeds germinate when they are ready. Transplants can be started earlier indoors to get a jump start on the season, and is necessary for some plants, but it's sometimes a rocky transition from indoors to outdoors, and critters tend to attack young transplants as well.

It made me think about being a transplant, a convert, in the church. I have secular baggage that cradle Catholics maybe don't have as much of, though they might have more religious baggage than I may. My early fervor fueled my growth early on, but maybe my roots do not run as deep as someone who has always been Catholic. The temptations I face, the animals that strip my leaves and chew my stem, are not unique, but I do wonder if I am working harder just to get to zero because of choices I have made in my past versus someone who was never a prodigal, never strayed. I don't know. Some plants need to be transplanted, some grow best directly in the ground.

Look at Paul and Peter in Galatians 1 and 2. Peter grew up as a friend of Jesus during his lifetime, a Jew through and through; Paul was an apostolic transplant, the apostle to the gentiles. They even came head to head at Antioch over disagreements of the direction of the church. We need Peters. We need Pauls. God calls both. That is a healthy church. Just like transplants and seeds sown directly, God calls us each according to his purposes (Rom 8:28).

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Use What You Have

You can geek out with gardening if you want to: taking soil samples, high-effort composting, applying specific fertilizer ingredients, hand watering. I used to do a lot of that kind of stuff, but just found it was more effort and input than output. Now I am a self-proclaimed lazy gardener. I try to minimize my inputs and maximize outputs. I'm more apt to direct seed certain things, even if it means a late harvest, rather than the hassle of starting seeds indoors under lights and having to constantly water. I'm ok planting high-yield plants with easy to pick fruit (I don't grow peas or beans, for instance). I lay down wood chips (a lot of effort early on, but once they're down they're good for years) as a mulch to suppress weeds and to hold in moisture. I rarely hand water except in the driest of weather, and don't weed much because there's not many weeds. I fertilize occasionally with whatever nutrient-rich organic material I have around--coffee grounds, grass clippings, compost--but try not to buy anything.

Practicing the Christian faith should be natural, using what's on hand. Sacramentals and devotional objects are nice but not necessary. I usually pray the rosary on my hands (10 fingers) when I don't have one, and don't let not having rosary beads on hand stop me from praying it. I read books here and there, but often get them from the library. A bible is indispensable, but again, can be accessed online for reference without cost. I've never been to Rome or the Vatican. When our prayer life becomes too complicated or mechanized, maybe it's a good opportunity to take a step back and get back to basics. Air, rain, sunlight, good soil--these make 95% of a plant's growth. If all we do is sit and adore God in worship, or serve his poor and welcome strangers (and as a result, welcoming him) or read our bible and meditate on the Word consistently, then we are 95% there. Follow the example of Jesus, whose yoke is easy, and burden is light (Mt 11:30).


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Some days I think, "why do I bother? There's a grocery store just down the street. Or I could outsource to professional farmers who have CSAs and markets nearby. Why do I put myself through this every year, growing food?" Honestly, I don't know, especially when you spent months growing a plant from seed only to see a half eaten pile of tomatoes on the ground next to it compliments of a squirrel. It would certainly be easier, albeit less satisfying. I've invested some money and time and energy, which I'm hoping will pay dividends over time. It's relaxing for me to do something productive outside, get my hands dirty, learn some new things, and its' physical as well.

I guess that's kind of like faith. You spend years cultivating and building up the soil with the hopes of a future harvest with no guarantees. There's hail, and caterpillars, deer, drought, disease, that work against you. It's a good bit of effort on our part to till and toil. You grow and nurture little seeds and bring them to maturity though care and attention. Progress is slow; it can't be seen day-to-day.

Every year I tell myself this is the last year, that it's just not worth it. And every Spring, I start again.

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