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A Variant Garden

I'm still in my garden, planting, toiling over the arduous work of ripping out sod to replace it with vegetables. Frank sweated alongside me yesterday, digging, grasping, pulling, trying not to put his back out.
But yesterday I was privileged to do a different kind of gardening, as Nicky and I joined the kindergartens at school for the afternoon.
Miss Veenstra gave me the job of helping to make Mother's Day crafts (apologetically saying "Sorry Ang, you get to see this ahead of time").
That was okay, for it delighted my heart to sit with each little child, a flower in God's own garden, and start the task.
I had to trace their hands, and they had to color. Eliana's Mommy would do the cutting out later. As I traced fingers, the unique handiwork of God was evident. Some hands were large and strong, others with long fingers, another dainty, petite. Skin tones ranged from pearly white to olive, and brown. A rainbow of wiggly digits pressed on the page as I outlined, little voices saying "that tickles", smiles radiating from all shades of brown, blue and hazel eyes.

Each colored in their own style, some meticulous in detail, others leaving broad splashes of color, taking but a moment before rushing on to their next activity.

They were like a riot of sunflowers, splashes of daisies, marigolds, black eyed Susans and some very sturdy shrubs.

A journey of joy with many involved, planting, nurturing, watering. Miss Veenstra was firm and loving, directing, teaching, admonishing when necessary and always calm.

I like working this soil. It's fresh and open to what is being planted. The fruit is beautiful and has a sweet fragrance. Yes, you have to pluck weeds out, we all know that 4 and 5 year olds can have a mind of their own, but they were movable. Sometimes they needed transplanting during circle time as the plant they were beside was too companiable, or not beneficial to their growth for that moment.
I love the analogies.

We are all His garden and I'm glad for His tending.
Give me fertile soil dear Father Gardener. Prune me where I need it so I can bear fruit for Your Kingdom. That's really all it's about isn't shine for You.


Belinda said…
Ang! I loved this post. I love children and I was "there" in my imagination--all those precious little hands. It all reminded me of this poem that I wrote years ago:
Precious flower in God's garden
He has placed you in my care;
Bid me water you with kindness
And to nurture you with prayer
Tell you of the gentle gardener
With his hands all scarred with love,
How one day we'll walk beside him
In that garden up above.
Angcat said…
Belinda I love that poem. Can you email it to me, or I guess I can just copy and paste. That's a beautiful reminder of the tending of the 'garden' in my own home.
Love A.
Belinda said…
Hi A,
I will post it on the blog as it also has a second verse. You'll be able to copy and past the whole thing then!
Susan said…
I loved your post, too. It's nice to think about two of my grandchildren learning in that class to honour their moms with you and Miss Veenstra watching over them... :o)
Joyful Fox said…
Beautiful AngCat,

You were blessed and you blessed. There are many flowers in His garden and we each are given some to tend. May we be faithful

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