Remember that beautiful field of yellow flowers, last week? Well, that idyllic vista transformed itself overnight into a barbaric army of white puffballs, already staking claim to our yard with covetous eyes. It looks like the vacant lot is covered in snow.
For the past week, I have spent hours taking back what is ours, pulling weeds in our small yard and flower beds, clearing out the arrogant dandelions which have already set up summer camp. A crowd is clustered along the curb like gossiping junior high girls. Another congregation has gathered in the flower bed on the edge of the yard, as if setting up for a revival. And dandelion spies have infiltrated and entangled themselves in the irises still struggling out of the ground.
Our yard directly borders this field, white unto harvest. And the invasion has begun. We have mowed a border of demarcation, the width of the lawn mower, between our lot and the field, a rather weak line of defense. The towering dandelions are ready to engage with great defiance, preparing their catapults.
As we were walking the other evening, our new neighbor came out of her house, aghast at the condition of her own lawn. "Where did these come from?" she asked with great surprise in her voice, pointing out a crop of unsightly weeds, scattered throughout her yard like children on a crowded playground. We just looked to the field beyond her house, no need to waste words. "I don't want to use chemicals," she explained, rather organically, "but even more so, I don't want to pick them out one by one. That would take forever."
"What do you do?" she asked my husband. Without waiting for an answer, she accused him, "You use chemicals, don't you?"
Bill just nodded, He had spread the protective granules, weeks ago. She told us she had looked into organic alternatives that, apparently, do not discriminate. They get rid of the weeds, but also kill the rest of the lawn as well. She had talked to some lawn services, and now had finally concluded that she may just rip up her lawn and sod it. "That would take care of it, once for all," she decided.
The neighbor on the other side approaches the invasion the old fashioned way. Every morning before work, he scrutinizes his yard and physically removes any weeds that crept into his yard like an enemy occupation under the cover of nightfall. They don't even stand a chance to send down roots.
Our house, even closer to the vacant lot than theirs, appears to float like an island of green in a sea of fluffy white. For the past week, we have observed a visible blizzard of seedlings blowing past our front window like the scene of a winter storm, gathering in little drifts on the edges of our driveway, spreading weeds uncontrollably.
But we need not lay down our defenses.
I consider, as in life, how acts of righteousness change the scope of the landscape. No matter how bleak, there is something that can be done. An intentional kindness, an encouraging word, integrity even when no one notices, a sacrifice for the good of others, recognized or not -- these things are unstoppable, and God uses them for great good, germinating what is just and true and loving.
When weeding, I noticed that in areas that are occupied by legitimate ground cover and healthy perennials, dandelions were rare, no place left to take root. The good has left no room at the inn. Plant what is noble and teach our children to do the same, cultivate beauty, nurture grace, and emulate those who love beyond themselves. Cover and protect the very ground with lovingkindness, joy, and good works, bearing fruit for seasons to come.
I need not succumb, but be willing and ready for what God puts in front of me to do this day -- to be faithful and sow righteousness, in whatever form that may take. He will do the rest.
I planted,
Apollos watered,
but God gave the growth.
1 Corinthians 3.6
For every despair,
God overcomes.
Sometimes He uses us
to do it.
Give me eyes to see, O LORD,
ears to hear,
and Your heart
that I may know how to respond,
trusting You
for the outcome.
God makes the difference.
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