Not just dirt

He said therefore,

"What is the

kingdom of God like?

And to what

     shall I compare it?

It is like

a grain of mustard seed

that a man took

and sowed in his garden,

and it grew

       and became a tree,

and the birds of the air

made nests in its branches.

            Luke 13. 18-19

In this time of Covid, a friend of mine who is an amazing poet has set aside her words and focused on her garden.  When I asked her this week how she was doing, she replied, "I am well.  Not writing, but my yard has never looked better."

Those neglected winter garden beds do not appear as just dirt to her. There is deep poetry in that soil,  that which is growing, that which is not yet ripe, that which is coming to the surface someday, that which needs a little care and dirt under her fingernails.

A tree does not just appear full-grown, but its majesty is built in infinitesimal increments.  It starts with a tiny little seed, nurtured even in impossible environments, and then, there is growth.  And God brings it.

This time we have been unexpectedly given is not just to be endured.  We will be changed not just by getting through it and moving into what is next, but by what is now.  What am I sowing today?  What am I planting?

 "I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo.  "So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times.  But that is not for them to decide.  All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."  -- J. R. R. Tolkien, Fellowship of the Ring

God has given to us this unusual time to not just do different things,

                   but to do the ordinary differently.

There is nothing insignificant in God's economy, 

nothing He cannot use,

                 no barren land, 

                               only that which has not yet visibly been transformed.

We see but the rocky soil choked with weeds

              or too bitterly hard to consider,

but God,

           God sees immense beauty

                                          already in the dirt.

God grows our smallest actions,

          even a kind and encouraging word,

                         into a perennial garden,

into a beautiful forest with refreshing shade

                  and tremendous fruit,

    an acoustic sanctuary

            for the chorus of birds,

                         the music of the spheres.

The mountains and the hills before us

shall break forth into singing,

and all the trees of the field

                    shall clap their hands.

                                 Isaiah 55. 12

I ran through the forest this morning

       surrounded by that rhythm and laughter,

   a thousand shades of newborn green,

                 refreshing my soul.

Faithfulness plants seeds,

    one no less valuable than another.

Faithfulness is not motivated

   by the end result,

       because we cannot comprehend

       the million layers of outcome,

   nor understand the deep abiding goodness

                    that crouches underneath,

   that someday will burst forth

            out of the ground that everyone

                       has given up on. 

What we do,

what we do for others

                   does something to us,

   the strengthening of our hearts,

   the deepening of vision,

the bearing of fruit,

the growing of magnificent trees

in ways we may

                   never recognize,

for the glory of God that

             will outlive us all,