The garden, Dakar, and hope

It had slowly become a tangled mess of weeds, plants leftover from last year, and dead stalks.

An eyesore.



One day I noticed something new: a poppy plant blooming enthusiastically among the weeds.  I walked outside.

Sometimes it only takes one bright spot of hope to draw you in for a closer look.



Not only was I entranced by the flowers' silky, vibrant beauty, but as I looked around, I saw other poppies that had sprung up.  I even found a few sweet pea vines.



How did they survive the frost? I wondered.  But there they were, green and budding.

Right in the middle of everything that seemed to be as it should not, there was beauty to be seen and bright hope unfurling her petals.

I had to look to see.

It's always there, that beauty, even when all appears to be no more than a tangle of confusion.



It's been several years since we've had a proper garden.  This year, I determined, would be different.  My last chance to have a garden at home before I leave.

Yes, sometimes small things seem big...

Like when I found out that plans were going to have to change and I would be leaving for Africa in August instead of September (like I had thought all along).

My heart was full of questions and struggles.  The list of what I was giving up seemed to be growing.  And not only that, it was looming even closer than I expected.

It was all such a mess that I hardly knew how to sort it out.   Why was I struggling the closer I got to something I'd worked towards my whole life?  Where was God in all of this and what was He trying to tell me?  What was I missing?

Meanwhile, the weeds in the "garden" grew as only weeds can and I would sigh and look out my window and think, There's no chance of a garden this year after all.  Even if I planted vegetables now, they'd barely be ready by August and no one else will take care of things after I leave.  I've wanted a real garden again for years, and now my last chance is gone.  I hate this.

One day at lunch, I happened to look out and see the bright orange flowers right in the middle of all those weeds, blooming like they belonged there.

I had to go look.

As I did, and realized that it wasn't all just ugly weeds, I began to sense what God had been wanting me to see:

Even when things aren't going like you planned...even when it's a mess and not orderly and lovely...My promises are always there.  You can depend on that.  Look beyond the weeds - look for the promises.  Look for grace.

I smiled and walked inside and wrote it all down in my journal, thinking I had "got it".

But the grace-life isn't simply noticing God's work and then walking away.  Some things get pulled up, some things stay, and some new things are added in.

I knew then what I would do - what I almost felt like I had to do.

I would plant a garden.



It was more than simply planting a garden.  Somehow, it was...a declaration that I believed God would bring something beautiful out of the situation.  It would be a reminder that His power does not require perfection in our circumstances or our hearts - it blooms right in the middle of our messes.

That Saturday, the sun shone warm as I pulled weeds and dug around flower plants and sneezed like it was going out of style.  (Blasted allergies!)



Two hours later it looked like this...



I planted the seeds, watered, and then began waiting.

Waiting for the plants to sprout.

Waiting for prayers to be answered with His grace.



And then one day it came, what I had been missing all this time.  This simple and forceful realization -

God will be right. there. with me in Africa.

Of course I never denied that before, but I hadn't brought it to bear on this situation - like trying to come up with the right solution when you're missing the most important part of the equation.

It makes all the difference in the world, when you realize the Almighty God of the Universe is right by your side everywhere you go.



I leave for Dakar, Senegal in August, Lord willing.

I cannot say that I have conquered all my fears, that I am sacrificing heroically, or that my struggles are over.

But God's promises will not fail.  They will spring up and blossom as hope.

He is my hope, my Emmanuel.  He is God with us - with me.  No matter where I go.