I ripped out our garden this week. You know, the one I was so excited about this year. And somehow, it felt good.
Seems like this is the homestead year of two things: the chicken, and letting go.
The dear, dear chickens (of which we have so many) would just not leave the garden alone this year. I built the frames to keep them out and they wriggled through anyway. It’s not like they don’t have an acre and a half of yard to roam, but I guess the garden was better. After the third or fourth time of replanting and trying to save it, I decided I was done.
Letting go of not just the garden, though. There are several situations in my life right now that God has brought in in order to teach me that I have to let go of my hold on control (tenuous though it may be): a dear friendship that for all appearances has failed, a struggling marriage to a spouse with severe anxiety and depression, facing the reality that my life and family are not what I thought they would be. The garden is a small thing.
Control is the antithesis of trust, and trust has always been the biggest issue of my walk with God; it was, I’m sad to say, due to my lack of trust in His plan for my future that I began to walk my own path instead of His as a teenager. He was with me still and I definitely see how He “works all things together for good,” but that doesn’t mean that He will let me stay in that immature state of not trusting Him now.
In order to trust God I have to let go — not just of my control, but my desires, my plans, even my dreams, in order to model my life after the Savior that laid down His own. That doesn’t mean that what God has in store isn’t more brilliant and beautiful than any I could dream up, for I’m learning that joy and peace are precious. Letting go also gives space to an area of my life to see how these things should take shape in it . . . without my controlling the process or the outcome.
Let go and … not leap.
And trust Him.
C.S. Lewis is reputed to have said “There are far better things ahead than any we leave behind.” I think that’s true, but the point I’m learning is that it’s not enough to just think something. We have to act on it. With that being said, Kenny and I both felt a weird little space after I took the garden out of the backyard . . . like releasing a breath of air we didn’t know we’d been holding. You know, it turns out we didn’t like the spot it was in anyway.