Not in our hands

One of the joys of gardening is dreaming about how things will look in the fullness of time. We can imagine and plan, and even draw or make collages, of how things might look in a space but we can’t know until things grow. So much of gardening is not in our hands. Some gardeners find this frustrating, but most, particularly when they’ve been gardening for a few years, revel in the happy accidents of nature. When we leave things to nature we are of course, leaving them to God. Isn’t this how we work alongside God so much of the time? God in his grace asks us to be his hands and feet on earth. We have a responsibility to do our best for God but we also have an infinitely powerful God working alongside us. 

Constant conversation

Although the Romans planted large formal gardens in the 1st century AD, the Anglo-Saxons seemed to think fighting was more important than gardening.  Not until the Middle Ages did small gardens become an important feature of English life. In monasteries of the Middle Ages, monks would tend kitchen gardens for food and medicine. Contact between monasteries meant that improved techniques of cultivation were developed, and knowledge of all aspects of planting grew quickly. The monks took great care in the layout of these gardens. The paths would sometimes be laid out in the shape of a cross, to remind the monks of the death of Christ. The formal paths encouraged the monks to walk slowly in a mood of quiet reflection.  Monastic gardens were not only places for reflection; they were also places for hard work. The hard work of gardening was not meant to be easy. Indeed, the daily toil and struggle of gardening was a form of prayer and worship towards God. In my small garden I don’t have paths laid out in the shape of a cross, but I do understand how hard work can be a form of prayer and worship to God. Brother Lawrence’s book ‘The Practice of the Presence of God’ talks about living in such a way that you can continue a constant conversation with God. He says, "it is not necessary for being with God to be always at church. We may make an oratory of our heart wherein to retire from time to time to converse with Him in meekness, humility, and love. Every one is capable of such familiar conversation with God, some more, some less. He knows what we can do." For us gardeners this constant conversation with God often takes place in the garden, particularly because meekness, humility and love are somehow encouraged by hard work.  

closer to God in the garden

Dorothy Frances Gurney wrote a poem with the lines
"The kiss of sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth,
One is nearer God’s heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on earth."
I often think about these words when I'm gardening. For many of us they ring true. We do feel closer to God in the garden than anywhere else on earth. I have a few theories about this, and as a keen gardener and a Christian I'm going to use this blog to explore them .