Soul Food

Michele Marr

Happy is the man who delights in the law of the Lord and ponders it

day and night. He will be like a tree that bears fruit at the right time

and whose leaves do not dry up.

Psalms 1:1-3

If I have a reputation as a gardener it is not a good one. I am

capable of ruining most any plant. As I write, I have four dead shrubs

gracing my garden: a once-magenta bougainvillea, a crape myrtle, a blue

hibiscus and a lantana. I haven’t had the heart to dig them up yet.

I gaze at them while I do the morning dishes. I pretend they are

deciduous plants waiting for the warmth and rain of spring. I enjoy how

their bare branches extend and sway and glint in the winter light like

the arms of so many charming ballerinas.

Of all the plants in my garden my roses do best. Each year they supply

me with blooms enough for my vases, the vases of a few neighbors, family,

friends and strangers. I have to admit they get some help from my husband

Michael. But rose gardening is not his hobby. It’s mine. At least that is

the way I intended it.

So I signed up for a workshop on rose care. My instructor drew roots,

bud grafts and unions, canes, laterals and flowering shoots. She talked

about good soil, deep watering and feeding. She explained how to

recognize suckers and how to keep diseases at bay.

Roses shouldn’t be crowded. They need room to breath. They need rest.

Stress and neglect cause damage. The damage leaves scars that hamper

growth. Spent wood, dead wood, suckers and puny shoots must be cut away.

Above all else, the health of the plant comes first. It comes before

cutting long stem roses, if getting the long stems means cutting the

plant too low too soon. No instant gratification. It comes before hanging

on to canes that really need to go. No clinging to the past.

The more I listened, the more I found myself applying this gardener’s

wisdom to my own well-being, as much as to the care of my roses. It

echoes many of the lessons in scripture drawn on sowing, tending and

reaping.

In a story about a barren fig tree a gardener begs for time to the

restore the unproductive plant.

“Sir, just one more year,” the gardener implores his boss, “I will dig

around it and put in some fertilizer. If the tree bears figs next year,

so much the better; if not, then you can have it cut down.”

I’m reminded and grateful that God is as patient with me.

A proverb tells the story of a lesson gleaned from a stranger’s

fields.

“I walked through the fields of a lazy, stupid man. They were full of

thorn bushes and overgrown with weeds. I looked at this, thought about

it, and learned a lesson from it.”

As I took notes on how to care for my roses, I noted the thorn bushes

and weeds that have taken root in my life -- busyness, clutter and

distraction. At times I tend my life as poorly as I tend my roses. I need

to foster and restore good habits in myself as much as them.

I’ll amend the soil around my roses. I’ll water them deep and feed

them. I’ll do my best to make out which canes on my bushes and vines to

cut and which to keep. Then I’ll let them rest and breathe. As I work,

I’ll pray that God will help me do the same in me.

I look forward to the spring.

* MICHELE MARR is a freelance writer and graphic designer from

Huntington Beach. She has been interested in religion and ethics for as

long as she can remember. She can be reached at o7

[email protected]