better living through weed control
Sometimes (by which I mean most of the time), I find myself overwhelmed and spinning my wheels doing things that are most decidedly not constructive. Is it really incumbent upon me to be aware of every Facebook friend's status update? Is it terribly likely that a tenure-track position at, say, Linfield has posted in at higheredjobs.com in the last 20 minutes? Especially if it's Saturday?
I was having one of those moments this afternoon and I decided to do something about it... by doing something about the large, slightly fuzzy, increasingly offensive weed growing next to a flowering bush in the backyard, as well as several of its leggy, dandelion-fronded companions. While the resulting cleared space is still most notable for being Stanley the cat's favorite, um, "personal" venue, it looks a far sight better than it did... and I was no longer hitting refresh on my email, waiting for the second coming or whatever it is that I am so convinced will come my way if only I check one more time.
We talk a lot about the spectacular qualities of God's creation. Just this morning the pastor made reference to finding God in nature. He's absolutely correct, and yet I suspect we often become so engrossed in finding God in majestic landscapes and breathtaking vistas that we forget God's presence in the details. We are meant to be in relationship with other people, but we are also meant to be in relationship with all creation. People are a part of that creation. So are gardens and roly-poly bugs, pansies and spindly, aphid-prone rose bushes that used to be red and bizarrely have decided to flower in pink this year.
Several uprooted saplings (seriously, those helicopter-seed-pods were a very effective idea, Lord) and a few eliminated clover plants later, I was feeling much calmer and in control of myself and my existence. I had a visit from Stanley, who is still working on his summer shedding and welcomed my fur-exfoliation assistance. I noticed that the Shasta daisies are about to bloom.
Jesus routinely used natural examples in his teaching, from the birds of the air to the seeds falling on poor and good soil. This was logical for a predominantly agricultural people, but it drives at something deeper. These stories resonate with us because whether we are vegetable producers or consumers, cut-flower enthusiasts or herbaceous-border diggers, we all are fed by connection to the natural world. After all, not only is it natural; it is created -- just like us. I write to remind myself, but perhaps it will be of use to others, too.
For the wonder of each hour
Of the day and of the night
Hill and vale and tree and flow'r
Sun and moon and stars of light
Christ, our Lord, to you we raise
This our sacrifice of praise.
--"For the Beauty of the Earth," v. 2, Folliot S. Pierpont (1835-1917), Lutheran Book of Worship (Augsburg, 1978)
I was having one of those moments this afternoon and I decided to do something about it... by doing something about the large, slightly fuzzy, increasingly offensive weed growing next to a flowering bush in the backyard, as well as several of its leggy, dandelion-fronded companions. While the resulting cleared space is still most notable for being Stanley the cat's favorite, um, "personal" venue, it looks a far sight better than it did... and I was no longer hitting refresh on my email, waiting for the second coming or whatever it is that I am so convinced will come my way if only I check one more time.
We talk a lot about the spectacular qualities of God's creation. Just this morning the pastor made reference to finding God in nature. He's absolutely correct, and yet I suspect we often become so engrossed in finding God in majestic landscapes and breathtaking vistas that we forget God's presence in the details. We are meant to be in relationship with other people, but we are also meant to be in relationship with all creation. People are a part of that creation. So are gardens and roly-poly bugs, pansies and spindly, aphid-prone rose bushes that used to be red and bizarrely have decided to flower in pink this year.
Several uprooted saplings (seriously, those helicopter-seed-pods were a very effective idea, Lord) and a few eliminated clover plants later, I was feeling much calmer and in control of myself and my existence. I had a visit from Stanley, who is still working on his summer shedding and welcomed my fur-exfoliation assistance. I noticed that the Shasta daisies are about to bloom.
Jesus routinely used natural examples in his teaching, from the birds of the air to the seeds falling on poor and good soil. This was logical for a predominantly agricultural people, but it drives at something deeper. These stories resonate with us because whether we are vegetable producers or consumers, cut-flower enthusiasts or herbaceous-border diggers, we all are fed by connection to the natural world. After all, not only is it natural; it is created -- just like us. I write to remind myself, but perhaps it will be of use to others, too.
For the wonder of each hour
Of the day and of the night
Hill and vale and tree and flow'r
Sun and moon and stars of light
Christ, our Lord, to you we raise
This our sacrifice of praise.
--"For the Beauty of the Earth," v. 2, Folliot S. Pierpont (1835-1917), Lutheran Book of Worship (Augsburg, 1978)
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