Behind my house is a small patch of earth. It contains a tiny vegetable garden, a few trees, a birdbath, a patio, and a deck. Though it wouldn't win awards in any gardening magazine, it is a special place—an oasis. In my backyard sanctuary, I find renewal, respite, and relaxation.
Because I live in central Minnesota, my backyard lies dormant through the long months of winter. During this time, the hue changes from green to brown. Unless, of course, snow covers. Then it is white for months. When my backyard is in its white or brown forms, it appears to be barren.
It is absent the flowering bushes, a canopy of leaves, blades of grass, and pots of flowers; the space looks lifeless. Gone are the butterflies and songbirds that flit along their erratic flight paths. Missing is the sweet fragrance of herbs carried by a gentle breeze. The deck chairs, covered with either fall’s debris or winter's fallout, no longer offer the invitation to sit and rest awhile. Even the fire pit and grill go unused; covered in tarps and snow, they wait for warmer days.
Surveying my backyard without its lush and leafy splendor, I find myself in the season of waiting. It is hard for me. I quickly become impatient when I sit around. No matter how hard I try, I am powerless to fast forward time. The earth's planetary rotation around the sun pays no mind to my puny desires. Unable to speed up the course of the cosmos, I resign myself to wait.
It is a holy time. Confronted by my inability and its accompanying vulnerability, I am humbled. Pretensions melt away in the face of such reality.
In this chapter, we start our parable-guided journey in the restless place that longs for transformation and signs of new life. Here the physical nature of my backyard collides with the metaphysical essence of my soul. We will look beneath the surface of both landscapes with sacred wonder.
Gardens don't just happen. They begin with a dream and emerge over time. The cooperative exchange between vision, hard work, and nature creates something unique and special.
I challenge you, as I have done myself more than once, to take a closer look. With imagination, look beyond what your eyes behold. Underneath the frozen crust of earth lies a microscopic world that is full of potential. It waits for the right conditions, temperatures, and rainfall. Like the faithful do for the Kingdom of God, the backyard longs for what is yet to come. Though nothing in life is inevitable, conviction fuels the anticipation of what the space might become. What it must become. What it will become.
With imagination look also beyond what you see in the mirror. What lies hidden behind the facade that you present to the world? Where is the truth that is you? Where is the child of God that is underneath the pretensions and constructions of our insecurities, vanity, and insatiable indulgence?
What do you need most? Where do you yearn for healing? What meaning do you seek in your life?
There is a beauty of winter that is often missed by those who dread and slog through the season. Shadows stretching out across the snow are good fodder for reflection. Mary pondered at the crude manger at the news that her baby was part of God's larger plan of restoration, renewal, and resurrection. Looking at the stark landscape behind my house, I yearn for this ability. I seek wisdom about things that are too great for my mind to comprehend and my heart to contain. Though I can’t begin to fathom such wonders, I desire them. I long for transformation; I wait for God to reshape and reform my being.
Beloved child of God, there is also a beauty within us that is often missed as we scurry through daily routines and navigate crises. We are quick to believe the lies of a commercial culture that tell us that we are not good enough, smart enough, or beautiful enough. Playing on our insecurities, others tell us that we need their products and praise to matter. Listening to these incessant voices, we stop paying attention to God’s message of love and acceptance. We forget that meaning and purpose cannot be manufactured or marketed. Instead, these things come from God and they can be found as we live into our God-given identity as a beloved child who was created to live in communion with God and others.
Potential. Opportunity. Growth. These words come to me as I look out through the frozen panes of glass that separate me from a yard that is sleeping. I dream and imagine the new life that will come to pass in due season. For my yard—an oasis. For my soul—illumination.
