Monthly Archives: May 2017

Sowing Bountifully

The garden is finally in.

It isn’t pretty but after a very wet spring, I’m just thankful it’s in the ground.

We should have let the soil dry for 2 or 3 more days – but we didn’t have 2 or 3 more days.

I had 12 hours to get it all planted before it rained again. And again. And again.

Parts of the garden were okay – barely. I planted my row crops there.

Other parts were marginal, in those I covered the seeds with a bag of top soil that we had purchased.

And in the parts that were pretty wet I dug a hole, filled it with the top soil, planted my seedlings and covered with more top soil. And prayed.

It wasn’t ideal.

I’m pretty sure my gardening friends are shaking their heads in disbelief.

But when it’s mid-May and you have no seeds in the ground and another week of intermittent rains in the forecast – you make it work.

At least I gave the seeds a fighting chance. Seeds left in the package will never bear fruit. Ever.

It made me think of the parable of the soils in the gospels.

“A farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path; it was trampled on, and the birds ate it up. Some fell on rocky ground, and when it came up, the plants withered because they had no moisture. Other seeds fell among thorns, which grew up with it and choked the plants. Still other seed fell on good soil. It came up and yielded a crop, a hundred time more than was sown.”  Luke 8:5-8 

Can’t you just see that farmer, a large seed bag strapped over his broad shoulders, reaching in for handful after handful of seeds and with wide, sweeping gestures spreading them liberally across his field.

I’m sure he knew that some would never bear fruit. That they would be trampled on or eaten by birds or overcome by thorns. But still he planted.

Why?

Because he knew that some would.

Sow bountifully today dear friends. Sow seeds of kindness and love and forgiveness and grace and peace and redemption.

Sow even if the conditions aren’t ideal.

Sow even if the storms threaten.

Not all will bear fruit.

But some will.

And that makes it worth all the effort.

 

 

Memory Lane

We had another little walk down memory lane last weekend as I met my siblings at mom and dad’s for our second annual sibling weekend.

Rain and cold kept us from many of the outside projects that we had planned – but we braved the north wind for one last visit to grandpa’s barn – which is scheduled to come down this weekend.

It’s listing even more than last year – if that’s even possible.

We rescued barn doors and gates and wrestled off century old siding to be passed out among children and grandchildren and great grand children to be used in projects and flower gardens.

All the while sharing memories of our times at Grandpa’s farm. Laughing about the time grandpa paid us to paint the barn – and we painted the snouts of his curious pigs as they came sniffing around the side. Grandpa was not impressed. Or happy. And we were asked to not do it again!

The cold, rainy weather also gave us time to dig through some heritage boxes in the afternoon, meeting ancestors, hearing family legends and uncovering treasures.

Like my Grandma’s diary – giving a rare glimpse of her daily life as a farmer’s wife and mother. Seeing her through new eyes and appreciating her all the more.

And my great, great Grandma Foltge Jurgena’s passport. She emigrated from Ostfriesland, Germany in the 1800’s with her husband and children.

We held in our hands a piece of history. Our history. And I wondered why they came? Was it hard to leave? How did they say good-bye to family? Pay for the trip? Start over in a new country with a new language?

But I’m so glad they did. Or I wouldn’t be here. Thank you Albert and Foltge.

We spent the evening as we did many times growing up – gathered around in the living room eating popcorn and watching family slides.

Remembering family trips and birthdays.

Laughing hysterically at our younger selves in all our awkward cuteness.

Reliving the joy and craziness of everyday life with five siblings, vivid imaginations, and an old farmstead for a playground.

 

Precious snapshots of days long gone.

Glimpses of who were and how we lived.

And of those who went before us – parents, grandparents and great great grandparents – who made it possible.

We are truly blessed.