Every day I'm going to start a 10 list. They might be connected, or not.
1) Made vegan potato skins.
2) I'm interested in raw foods, but I suspect there is far too heavy a reliance on gadgets.
3) I am growing wary of animation in live action films. I'm talking to you Super. (btw, ... )
4) I can't decide if I like 'The Queen is Dead' or 'Strangeways, Here we come' more/less/equal
5) I like it when I check out upcoming Criterion titles and see that I have already seen several of them.
6) Finally finishing Judges 5 translation, albeit sloppily, is quite a step in the right direction.
7) He knows I'd love to see him. He better know who he is.
8) The struggle to keep a routine when there is no overt force pushing me one of the finest challenges of my life.
9) Garden ambitions seem to get out of control at times, but with each success it's hard not to become increasingly optimistic.
10) Pandora gets the playlist wrong more often than right.
Showing posts with label gardening. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gardening. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Friday, July 8, 2011
Nature wins again, but lesson learned.
So, we've been working on our garden and so far everything has grown beyond our expectations--until today. We were hit with an extended storm that was too much for our babies. Our stakes and string could not support the 6foot-plus tomato plants, and so most of them fell over. Now, being an optimist let me state:
1) The plants grew way taller than expected.
In this regard we did it right.
2) Since the plants fell over, we harvested an impressive early crop.
We left a lot more on the plants until we decide what to do.
At the same time, all is not well in the garden.
1)I have to figure out what to do with
these nearly crippled tomato plants and fast.
2)Trapped under the tomatoes are a couple pepper plants and some herbs.
Hopefully they will be salvageable.
3)This happened because I underestimated the plants.
If they had been caged or
fenced we'd be in good shape and all the plants
probably would have grown like crazy from the rain.
So, what did we learn from all this?
1)When it comes to gardening--plan plan plan. We actually did a lot of this but we did not
2)Expect big things. Because I was sheepish in this regard, I wasn't prepared. We should always be ready for the best possible scenario.
Now as a theologian, I would be remiss not to connect this garden catastrophe to the spiritual life.
What is true in the garden is true with God. Those who are spiritually inclined know all about planting seeds and tending and waiting for growth. A lot of times, people start out fast and then as soon as the storm comes they wither because the appropriate support isn't in place. This is my first connection. Sounds like thttp://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=5109135718941244358he parable of the sower, eh? (Matt 13:3-23; Mk 4:2-20; Lk 8:4-15 ish)
Secondly, my expectations with the garden were low and then I was taken by surprise and then I wasn't prepared for the abundant growth. As a result, I'll probably lose the bulk of the tomatoes and possibly several other plants. Today, the thought of miracles seems quaint. I've seen so many awful things in my life that the idea of a massive religious encounter seems impossible. It may be that those miracles do exist, but they begin as seeds. We plant them-maybe. We tend them-sometimes. We see our expectations exceeded-rarely. So, miracles may be happening all the time, but we don't let them grow.
So, if you take nothing else, expect and be ready for great things.
1) The plants grew way taller than expected.
In this regard we did it right.
2) Since the plants fell over, we harvested an impressive early crop.
We left a lot more on the plants until we decide what to do.
At the same time, all is not well in the garden.
1)I have to figure out what to do with
these nearly crippled tomato plants and fast.
2)Trapped under the tomatoes are a couple pepper plants and some herbs.
Hopefully they will be salvageable.
3)This happened because I underestimated the plants.
If they had been caged or
fenced we'd be in good shape and all the plants
probably would have grown like crazy from the rain.
So, what did we learn from all this?
1)When it comes to gardening--plan plan plan. We actually did a lot of this but we did not
2)Expect big things. Because I was sheepish in this regard, I wasn't prepared. We should always be ready for the best possible scenario.
Now as a theologian, I would be remiss not to connect this garden catastrophe to the spiritual life.
What is true in the garden is true with God. Those who are spiritually inclined know all about planting seeds and tending and waiting for growth. A lot of times, people start out fast and then as soon as the storm comes they wither because the appropriate support isn't in place. This is my first connection. Sounds like thttp://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=5109135718941244358he parable of the sower, eh? (Matt 13:3-23; Mk 4:2-20; Lk 8:4-15 ish)
Secondly, my expectations with the garden were low and then I was taken by surprise and then I wasn't prepared for the abundant growth. As a result, I'll probably lose the bulk of the tomatoes and possibly several other plants. Today, the thought of miracles seems quaint. I've seen so many awful things in my life that the idea of a massive religious encounter seems impossible. It may be that those miracles do exist, but they begin as seeds. We plant them-maybe. We tend them-sometimes. We see our expectations exceeded-rarely. So, miracles may be happening all the time, but we don't let them grow.
So, if you take nothing else, expect and be ready for great things.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Sunburn and the Spiritual Journey
For months we've been planning our outdoor garden. We started tons of plants inside in March and have been waiting for the day. Yesterday was that day. With the raised bed filled with soil and broken up, we were ready to go, but we got off to a late start, and for all our plans we weren't quite ready when we stood in front of the plot.
So, we grabbed a corner and started planting. After a couple hours, the job was finished and all those tiny plants that sat in our windows looking impressive, now looking like tepid weeds waiting to be pulled up for their annoyance.
Within hours of finishing a couple things were clear:
Carrots and peas don't transplant well.
Even on a cool day, the bright sun is hot.
That sun will, in fact, burn you.
I had forgotten sunblock, and so at the end of the day I was sore and tired and red. So, skin burned and lesson learned.
In a sense, the same is true in the spiritual journey. In my life, I have had the joys of a spontaneous conga line in church. I've been part of worship teams, drama groups, prayer teams, bible studies, and a Sunday school teacher. It is a part of my life that I really do love. At the same time, I've felt betrayed by church leaders, disappointed with sermons, misled by church friends, and the odd person out of retreat four square.
Through it all, I need to remain hopeful. The church is imperfect because people are imperfect. To expect more is asking too much of the church and of ourselves. I can't remember the last time I was perfect. The spiritual journey winds as maddeningly as pea vines planted too close together. At the end of the day the plants in the yard and the people in the pews are on a journey. We don't know what will happen next. Will there be frost this week? Will there be rain? Will we grow or wilt? It all remains to be seen.
In terms of the garden, we know that it's May outside and the season is just beginning. We have hope that the sun will shine and the rain will be steady, but not too windy. It isn't the same with the spiritual journey. What is our season? We may be long-time members of the church, but stuck in February. We could be young, but look ahead with August eyes. It's not for us to understand. All we can do is start the seeds, prepare the soil and remember our sunblock.
So, we grabbed a corner and started planting. After a couple hours, the job was finished and all those tiny plants that sat in our windows looking impressive, now looking like tepid weeds waiting to be pulled up for their annoyance.
Within hours of finishing a couple things were clear:
Carrots and peas don't transplant well.
Even on a cool day, the bright sun is hot.
That sun will, in fact, burn you.
I had forgotten sunblock, and so at the end of the day I was sore and tired and red. So, skin burned and lesson learned.
In a sense, the same is true in the spiritual journey. In my life, I have had the joys of a spontaneous conga line in church. I've been part of worship teams, drama groups, prayer teams, bible studies, and a Sunday school teacher. It is a part of my life that I really do love. At the same time, I've felt betrayed by church leaders, disappointed with sermons, misled by church friends, and the odd person out of retreat four square.
Through it all, I need to remain hopeful. The church is imperfect because people are imperfect. To expect more is asking too much of the church and of ourselves. I can't remember the last time I was perfect. The spiritual journey winds as maddeningly as pea vines planted too close together. At the end of the day the plants in the yard and the people in the pews are on a journey. We don't know what will happen next. Will there be frost this week? Will there be rain? Will we grow or wilt? It all remains to be seen.
In terms of the garden, we know that it's May outside and the season is just beginning. We have hope that the sun will shine and the rain will be steady, but not too windy. It isn't the same with the spiritual journey. What is our season? We may be long-time members of the church, but stuck in February. We could be young, but look ahead with August eyes. It's not for us to understand. All we can do is start the seeds, prepare the soil and remember our sunblock.
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