Last night I decided to do a little gardening, something I am not good at. I love to admire other people's gardens. Part of me yearns to do it myself. But the combination of many nights working and a sort of (well) innate laziness leads to a lack of prolonged gardening efforts. Plus, I do not know much about plants, other than "I like the way that looks." (I do know the difference between an annual and a perenniel, though.)
Last night I was doing a little digging and planted a few herbs. That was all I was going to do, and it was going to be enough. I went to the nursery, bought dirt and a couple of tools, and started to get the dirt ready (with my new digging fork!). (it is rumored to be ergonomically healthy!)
But then I noticed all of the saplings that are sprouting up in our yard. Some of them are still pretty small, and others are ridiculous, and they are in where the peonies are supposed to be. I started digging up saplings in the garden. It was about 90 degrees out. And those roots were pretty stubborn and deep. They wanted to live. I didn't want them to.
I just got a few saplings out. There is a lot more hard work ahead, a lot more stubborn roots wanting to live, and helicopter seeds still swirling around, desperately trying to take root and multiply. Most of these seeds come from an ancient tree in our front yard, an ancient tree that (we think) is beginning to die. So it is creating more and more seeds, more and more saplings, trying (as one of my parishoners said) to "expand its territory." (Sort of like Jabez, I said.)
But I am the enemy of life right now, digging up deep roots, throwing out branches, going after small trees just trying to live -- all because they happen to be in the wrong place.
It's an odd assignment.