Sunday, December 23, 2001
REWARDS
"Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes
me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in
the name of a prophet will receive a prophet's reward; and whoever
welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person
will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even
a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of
a disciple--truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward."
Matthew 10:40-42
One of the jobs I dread the most is weeding a garden. Not only
does my back give out rather early, but also I don't really appreciate
the sweat running into my eyes, which it usually does, given
the position one has to get into to do the job. And then there's
the problem of the lovely plant coming out of the dirt much more
easily than its taller, stronger neighbor that you intended to
pull. And then there are the thorns, nettles and deadly nightshade.
Not to mention the slimy little buggy things that often come
under my hand.
But no matter. Weeding does have to be done, like it or not.
Standing or stooping or kneeling, hoeing or pulling by hand,
it's weed or have the flowers and veggies choked out.
I have discovered, over the years, that a good deal of my problem
with weeding has been in my perspective. I tend to keep looking
at all the work that still needs to be done. I drag my little
basket along with me, piled high with weeds I've pulled, but
seeing only the petunia ringed by thistles (that man in the birdseed
store told me these seeds wouldn't product plants in this climate!).
I sigh, I moan, I lay back on the grass (mistake thought I'd
put that nettle in the basket! Ouch!). I rest a little, and then
tackle the task again.
It's only when I'm too exhausted to pull one more plant that
I actually sit on my garden stool and contemplate the garden.
Why, look at that! I have it more than half done! You can actually
see the radishes! In fact, that one is getting pretty big. Better
pull it and eat it. Yum! Love the taste of the dirt on their
fat little roots.
Seriously, now, I begin to realize that most of my life has been
lived that way. I was constantly looking at all that had to be
done, at the mess that had to be straightened out, at the weeds
that had to be pulled, at the state of the world, and the task
seems no, is gargantuan. I need help. I can never do it all.
I haven't the time, the strength, and the life span. I sink into
a hopeless mindset. Woe, I will never see the end of it, never
see success, and never hear God say, "Well done!"
But sitting on my stool, I begin to see that I have accomplished.
I have loosened the soil, and the little plants look perky, and
I'm discovering that there's more than one, single radish in
here. I'm renewed to go back to the job, pulling up a few more
thorns and fluffing a few more snapdragons. There are also a
few other rewards. Unbidden, unrecognized for weeks (so I left
it alone, since it didn't have the ropey look of a weed) I have
a Jack-in-the-pulpit behind the garage. Planted by a former resident?
An accidental volunteer? No matter. It's a magical reward for
doing a job I hate.
Can't argue with that.
Sandra Herrmann
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