Healthy Living

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How to Plant a Garden

Once upon a time I was invited to give a “little talk.” Understand it wasn’t a “motivational speech.” It was just a little talk that rambled and strolled around with a nice group of folks.

We ended up talking about planting a garden, which I had never done. But, I had props-a basket of corn, squash, turnips, lettuce and peas (so I thought.) To begin this little talk I held up the lettuce and said something like this:

“Let us be kind to each other. Let us be unselfish. Let us share our memories.”

Holding up the squash, I encouraged those gathered to:

“Squash hard feelings. Squash feeling sorry for their selves. Squash rumors.”

The turnips were used to remind us we could:

“Turn up for activities. Turn up with a positive attitude. Turn up with a will to do our best.”

Finally, I got to the peas. Holding one up, I declared we needed to plant three rows of peas…

That’s when the voice interrupted me, “Lady, that’s definitely not a pea. My dear, that is a bean.”

Laughter erupted. Sure enough, he was right. Nevertheless, we had to plant three rows of peas.

Pleasantness, patience, and perseverance were dropped neatly into three straight rows.

I dislike wasting food, so we need to plant those beans. Do you think we can come up with three thoughts related to beans? Here goes. What about…

“I’ve 'bean' meaning to loose some weight.”

“I’ve ‘bean' meaning to clean out my closet.”

“I’ve ‘bean' meaning to get back to church, but…”

I would imagine today that some of you might have lost the WONDER of going to church. Did I ever lose the wonder of going to church? Sure I did. At time, I also lost the wonder of teaching school, of writing, of being a mother and a wife. Did I quit? Did I give up?

No. As imperfect as the teaching profession is at times, I didn’t quit. I just retired after 32 years. As lousy as it is at times to be a wise mother, mother-in-law, grandmother, I have never quit. As hard as it is on occasion to preserve a strong marriage, I’m still hanging in there after 47 years of being married to my favorite preacher. I’m even still trying to “birth this baby” of being a writer.

I am not trying to defend motherhood, or the home, or the school system, or the writing profession, or the church today. Not one of them is perfect. Yet, how empty and incomplete my life would be without their existence. I need my family. I need my church. I need to teach. I must write.

One quick afterthought: I read somewhere that words perish, but deeds re-echo and live through the ages. So much for “little talks” when it’s really “little deeds” that count.

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