Cultivating Spring
Spring is here. We’re finally getting those first days of 70-degree weather, and the sun is shining her brilliance across blue skies. The brown, dry, brittle colors of winter are giving way to the vibrancy of new buds and blossoms. Beauty springs forth as new life breaks through. New beginnings emerge with the rebirth of plants that looked dead. The tips of barren trees become round and form tiny buds full of potential. Blossoms breakthrough and green reclaims its ground.
Despite my appreciation of nature, I’ve never been one to cultivate it. Instead, I watch with excitement as spring tiptoes in, quietly restoring beauty to a barren landscape, and hope that my yard joins the resurgence. As we experience our first spring in our new home, I’m curious to see what will come to life and what required more attention from me. Will I regret the work I skipped last summer? This quarantine has got me contemplating an attempt at gardening. Cabin fever might be asserting a strong hand in this, but I also realize that for all my love of flowers and spring, I have not done anything to ensure that it flourishes in my yard. I hope, but otherwise do little more than the bare minimum of turning on the sprinkler system, a “let’s see what happens” approach.
A drive around will tell you who puts attention, care, and love into their yard. Purple and blue hydrangeas in big bushes, neatly edged grass next to fresh, chocolate-colored mulch are pictures of the time and effort involved to maintain a yard. These yards are a sight to behold, lush and green because of hours spent working and years spent tending. The imitation green of astroturf doesn’t cut it; it doesn’t hold a candle to the old fashioned work of gardening.
I think this is a picture of our relationships with each other, our family, and with Christ. A let’s see what happens approach doesn’t make for growth. Things might hang on with little attention or intention, but they’ll eventually wither and lose the ability to come back to full vibrancy year after year. But a look at greener grass in someone else’s yard shouldn’t be a call to jealousy; instead, it’s an invitation to cultivation, to dig into relationships with hands ready to do the hard work of helping others flourish.
For me, this Easter has been one to remember. A first, and hopefully last of unique experiences, mandatorily celebrating from inside my home as snow fell outside my window. I missed the church, I missed our joint celebration, singing songs of triumph with fellow believers, and I missed the greenery I’ve always associated with the holiday. But as I longed for blossoms, buds, and shoots, I was reminded that I am responsible for cultivating them in my own life. I can continue moving ahead, hoping that this is good enough, or I can raise my children with intentionality. I can give them a foundation fertile with love, pour grace like water, and shine kindness like sunlight. I can give them the proper framework of wisdom and discipline to grow up like vines. In my relationship with Christ, I can flourish on daily prayer and studying God’s word, or I can naively hope that turning on the Sunday morning sprinkler will be enough. This quarantine is many things; one is an opportunity for me to cultivate life and growth in my yard and within the walls of my home.
Trust in the LORD and do good; Dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness. Psalm 37:3
