the good seed are the children of the kingdom;
but the tares are the children of the wicked one;
The enemy that sowed them is the devil;
the harvest is the end of the world;
and the reapers are the angels.
As therefore the tares are gathered and burned in the fire,
so shall it be in the end of this world.
Life started in the Garden, and we modern-day Adams and Eves can still learn a lot out there. Life Lesson #403: Weeds Happen; Deal With Them.
It was so hot and humid the other morning, I felt like wearing only a fig leaf to go out and weed. But I knew that would cause a big Rumble in the Jungle from the neighbors hitting the ground in dead faints after fits of extreme nausea. Besides, there was beaucoup poison ivy out there.
Along with mulberries, volunteer trees, and weeds of all kinds, poison ivy was threatening to take over my Shady Wonderland, a large area in our backyard that’s under big pine trees. It’s supposed to have vistas of hosta and Virginia creeper, but was getting overrun by herbaceous intruders.
So I strapped on my battle gear:
- Army boots so the poison ivy couldn’t get my ankles.
- Pants so the poison ivy couldn’t get my legs;
- A long-sleeved, winter running shirt with an index finger hole to stretch fabric halfway down my hand so the poison ivy couldn’t get my wrists.
- A winter headband and a severe ponytail to hold my hair back so the poison ivy couldn’t get my ears if I had to tuck errant strands behind them;
- Extra-strength gardening gloves;
- A bandanna in my pocket, so if I had to scratch my face, I could use that, not my gloved fingers, which might get poison ivy on my face.
- A hat, to ward off ticks – eww! – but also so if I had to scratch my head, I’d have to push in on the hat, and IT would scratch my head, and I wouldn’t get poison ivy there, either.
As you gathered, I have a mortal fear of poison ivy, already expressed in a story, Poison Uh Oh. My good friend Jeannie told me about a great new anti-poison ivy product, Tecnu, and I’d stocked up on it. So even though I was going to cook, I was ready. Let’s roll! I grabbed my spade and trowel and moved out, like an astronaut /guerrilla / beekeeper.
Weeding reminded me that gardening is like life. You tend your cherished relationships and plant new ones. Weeding is like ending the relationships that aren’t right, or correcting ones that have gone astray:
· The fragrant peonies, spectacular irises and plump fruits and vegetables are like your favorite friends and relatives, who you love to see and be around, and who set a colorful and beautiful example.
· The shallow-rooted mulberries are like bossy bullies: they take up a lot of space and crowd others out. But once they’re uprooted and taken away, the other plants can spread out and grow properly.
· The volunteer trees are like those people who don’t like to follow the rules, butt in where they’re not supposed to be, and stick out like a sore thumb.
· The prickly-stemmed weeds have a knack for growing right alongside a wanted plant, so you have to be very careful when you pull them out. You might get hurt, and you might damage or destroy the good plant, too (Matthew 13:29). That’s good advice for ending a romance.
· The long, skinny, sticky, clingy weeds tend to multiply ‘til they’re literally tying down the wanted plants. If you don’t pull them out by the roots, they’ll just break in half and stay there, like wimpy-whiny-clingy-stalker people that the kids call “creepers.”
· Then there’s my nemesis, poison ivy. It’s not enough to pull up individual poison ivy plants; you have to get rid of the whole vine, or they’ll spring back up. Be vigilant, but be careful. Exactly like irritating people: once you know them and their traits, you can avoid them, or interact with them only on certain terms so you don’t get a “rash.”
The bad news is, I can be like all of those weeds: Bossy! Pushy! Prickly! Clingy! Irritating!
Uh oh! When the big Weedeater in the Sky comes down here for the harvest of souls, and they’re bringing in the sheaves, will I go with the wheat . . . or the tares?
Here’s the great news: because of Jesus, believers will be wheat, not weeds. Whew! It’s reassuring to be one of the Gardener’s keepers, not creepers.
Of course, we should all still try our best to stop acting like a weed so much . . . and just put our faces to the light and bloom where we’re planted. †
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