{"id":9770,"date":"2017-10-20T00:00:00","date_gmt":"2017-10-20T00:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sites-stage.familylife.com\/flministries\/?p=9770"},"modified":"2017-10-20T00:00:00","modified_gmt":"2017-10-20T00:00:00","slug":"gardening-is-good-for-the-soul-right","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wp-stage.familylife.com\/www\/articles\/topics\/faith\/essentials-faith\/growing-in-your-faith\/gardening-is-good-for-the-soul-right\/","title":{"rendered":"Gardening Is Good for the Soul, Right?"},"content":{"rendered":"<div id=\"bsf_rt_marker\" fetchpriority=\"high\"><\/div><p style=\"padding-top: 30px\">Contrary to what the title suggests, I am no gardener, which would explain why my flower beds are overgrown with grass. As a mom, I have difficulty finding time or motivation to clean out flower beds because it seems like an exercise in futility. As soon as I finish the 300-and-some-odd linear feet of flower beds\u2014the previous owner of\u00a0our house <em>was<\/em> a gardener\u2014it is time to start all over again.<\/p>\n<p>As much as I dislike getting my hands deep in the soil, I have developed a strange maternal attachment to my tulips. So, when I heard one early spring day that it would freeze that night, I went to the garden center to find a way to protect my little\u00a0budding babies. The man at the center was nice enough to load several large bags of mulch into my car, and I drove away, ready for battle. I should have paid more attention to the way my shocks groaned when he tossed those bags into my trunk. When I got home, I popped my trunk and traipsed around the car, armed with gardening gloves. Five minutes later I was still struggling to heft out the first huge bag while my Labrador watched me from her perch under a nearby tree.<\/p>\n<p>I finally maneuvered the bags into the yard and dragged them to the beds. I&#8217;d planned\u00a0to dump\u00a0out the bags and\u00a0go on my merry way. Sadly, the beds were overgrown with\u00a0grass. I stared around and wondered what to do next. Did I mention I\u00a0grew up with a rock lawn?\u00a0I decided\u00a0to pull the grass out. I grasped a thick\u00a0chunk and pulled. And pulled &#8230;\u00a0Then I fell over on my backside. Ignoring the dog&#8217;s mommy&#8217;s-gone-crazy look, I marched to the shed and came back with a shovel so I could dig the grass up. I plunged the shovel into the grass and the roots shoved back. I jumped on the shovel and fell over.<\/p>\n<p>Grass, two. Shovel, zero. I braced myself on a big rock and attacked with the shovel from above,\u00a0bringing all my weight down.\u00a0I triumphed when I heard a crack &#8230; until I realized it was the shovel, not the grass.<\/p>\n<p>I heaved and jumped and pushed and shoved. I even\u00a0brought out the large hedge trimmer and cut the grass&#8217;s roots. After thirty minutes, I yanked up an entire square foot of grass and brandished it for the dog to see. Then I looked around. One foot down, 30 more to go &#8230; at least. My\u00a0fingers were frozen, my muscles sore, my\u00a0spirit down.\u00a0I\u00a0dragged my tools back to the garage and limped\u00a0inside for some Bible reading and enchiladas.<\/p>\n<p>So what does my venture in gardening have to do with my soul? The grass and its resilient roots gave new meaning to the term &#8220;letting sin take root.&#8221; I realized that the roots in that grass were there from neglect. Each twisted root of the grass is like a sin that I let go unchecked. Every stray thought, deed, or word can twist around my heart and choke out God&#8217;s light. Even with my hectic mommy schedule, I must make time for God daily so that my soul doesn&#8217;t become like my flower beds.<\/p>\n<hr \/>\n<p><em>Copyright \u00a9 2009 by Jennifer Dyer. 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