I had just laid my head down after spending another few hours in the garden that spring evening ….. finally got most of my herb plants and a few more flowers IN . . . when I heard it.
ARGHHHHH HAIL!
Hail. I hate hail. That great equalizer. Natures way of reminding us who is in charge, and that we are always dependent on Him. Big mistake to rely solely on “the arm of flesh”.
I timed it.
From beginning to end less than six minutes. But I knew it wouldn’t take more than that. It never does. It doesn’t have to. I mentally went through my garden beds and realized there was no one or two places that I could reasonably even hope to cover. If I had had warning. I was completely at the mercy of hail. My thoughts turned, as they often do, to my great grandparents who repeatedly got hailed out on the prairies after putting in all their blood, sweat and tears. I thought of them standing there, at the door, watching the hail fall, weeping. Not much else to do. . . . . And as always, my heart went out to them. My people. Most of whom I’ve never even met.
early family garden in the city when the kids were little, around 1989
For me hail means frustration, disappointment and inconvenience. For them it meant everything! For them it could have cost them their entire year, and they would have wondered how they were gonna feed their family in the winter to come. I knew there was nothing I could do but hope and pray. Just as they knew there was nothing more they could do.
I went out the following morning to check my gardens. Fine. I checked each plant I put in last night. Fine. All fine. If I hadn’t heard the hail storm the night before, I likely wouldn’t even have known about it. I am relieved. And I am grateful. And again as I do so often, I wondered “why I am so favoured?”. And I love and appreciate all the more, those people who came before me, to this land. And paid such a high price, so that I could have what I have, a long time after they’re dead and gone. Thank you. Thank you to Charles and Sarah, to Alonzo and Elizabeth, to Andreas and Inger, Pearl and Leland, Heber and Capitolia, and all the others who sacrificed so that my children could be born HERE in this place, NOW in this time. The fullness of times.
And I thank my Heavenly Father again for the bounty we enjoy in this land. And I recommit myself to Him, with the reminder that I am nothing without Him. All I can do for myself can be wiped away in 6 minutes, or less. Yes, I will continue to work hard. But in Him alone will I put my trust.
Let me paint a picture for you. (cc 20-5 years BC – Helaman 11)
A people abound in wickedness, former enemies, but by now both are enemies of truth and right. They are called Nephites and Lamanites, and though they consist of many tribes, those nations are how they are identified to history. Their contention and disputations one with another erupt into full out war, nurtured by the deception of a power hungry group of evil men known by their founder’s name – Gadianton.
A prophet – Nephi is his name, is given – the power to bind and loose on earth and in heaven – (Helaman 10:7). He persuades the Lord to replace the war with a famine that the people might be brought to humility and repentance. The rains stop, and the earth does not yield forth grain in the season, slaughter from war ceases. A year without rain and a great famine covers the land. Destruction from the sword is replaced by destruction from famine. Two years without rain. The effects of the famine are felt among all peoples: Nephite and Lamanite alike, both wicked and righteous. Another year passes with no rain. The people perish by the thousands, especially (it is noted), in the more wicked parts of the land. Finally, the people begin to remember the words of the prophet Nephi – and they remember that there is a God. Funny how it sometimes takes so long to get back to the basics. I’ve heard it said that there are no atheists in foxholes. It appears there may be fewer atheists during famine as well. The people return to their God, who they had forgotten. At the point of their utter despair and almost sure destruction they acknowledge their former wickedness, repenting of it and plead to the prophet to intercede on their behalf and to send rain.
Moved by their plight, Nephi goes to the Lord in prayer for the people. Almost FOUR years without rain! “And now O Lord,” he pleas “wilt thou turn away thine anger, and try again IF they will serve thee? And IF so, O Lord thou canst bless them according to thy words which thou hast said.” (Helaman 11:16)
These are Big IF’s.
The people still have some proving to do. The Lord sends rain. So much so, that the earth begins to bring forth fruit in the proper season, and grain in its season. And the people are happy and glorify God, and the whole face of the land is filled with rejoicing. They rightly esteem Nephi to be a true prophet and a man of God, having great power and given authority from God. The people begin again to prosper and to multiply and spread out. They cover the land. They live in peace, forgetting previous offences, and thus it goes for more than two years, three years, almost four years. Then old grudges surface, conflicts begin to be rekindled, dissenters change sides and new strifes take hold. People begin again to fraction off into ‘tribes’ being divided by differences that could not be resolved in the absence of love. War commences. Gadiantons resurface, feeding on the discontent and exaggerated flaws of one’s opponents. In only a few short years the people have devolved from the terror of famine, to a return of the conditions that preceded it. Natural consequence when ‘love’ is not present.
The land virtually erupts in havoc, as the Gadiantons increase in number and wax strong, defying laws and those commissioned to enforce them. They plunder and murder for their own purposes, receiving daily additions to their numbers from the discontented. Government forces attempting to put them down are driven back, they literally infest the land, killing at will and even stealing women and children.
Can you imagine such a scenario? Anarchy in the streets. No regard for civil law. Proud and stiff necked, conspiring men who flatter the people and manipulate them to do their bidding in the name of whatever appeals to the people. This is no fairy tale, no work of fiction. It is literally out of the evening news in the year 20 BC on the American continent, as found in the chapters of Helaman 11-16.
This is the generation of Samuel, when believers among the Nephites are fewer in number than believers among the Lamanites. All over the land the people (both Nephite and Lamanite) are being prepared for the coming birth of “the Messiah” about whom their men of God have been prophesying for six hundred years. Believers await the signs they have trusted in all their lives. Unbelievers ridicule and mock them and trample everything that is precious and sacred under their feet.
Turmoil grips the Nephite capital city of Zarahemla, despite the not-to-distant humbling life changing destruction the famine. Into this environment comes a prophet, another one, this one from among the people of their traditional enemies. He preaches repentance to the people and they cast him out of their city, refusing to readmit him. He finds himself a podium upon which to speak – so that he can be heard by the greatest amount of people possible. He stands literally atop the city wall. His name is Samuel. He preaches as Nephi did, of impending destruction if they do not repent and trust in God, having faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. He claims an angel of the Lord declared it unto him. He tells them that it is for the benefit of those few righteous among them, that their city is saved, and had it not been for them, the Lord would have caused fire to come out of heaven to destroy it. He warns that if they ever cast out the righteous from among them, they would have no such safety net. He condemns them for their pride and greed, which he says leads them to much grosser sins like persecution of the righteous and even murder. He says that if a prophet told them what they wanted to hear, they would accept him and esteem him as a prophet, and even pay him well for being one, but if he testified against them, they would call him a false prophet and they’d get rid of him.
Up till this part in the book, I find the story disturbingly, even hauntingly familiar. It literally IS the news stories I read on line, the commentaries on every news radio station, and the speculative theory of talk show hosts and political podcasts. Anarchy in the streets of America’s capital. Those who meant harm, at the threshold of government offices. Corruption and inefficiency widespread. Gadiantons in public office. Secret oaths of conspiracy and collusion. And so here we are, the people – hung out to dry, wondering who is going to prevail, and which ‘side’ is right if either of them can be. And in the middle of it, a world wide pandemic which frightens even the most seasoned front line worker, keeping people isolated from work and peer groups. Unprecedented unemployment. Hotly contested political issues. Conspiracy theories abound. Accusations of treason on the highest levels. Freedom of speech, that sacred holy grail of democracies is being intimidated and altered. Faction against faction. Discord damaging communities, congregations and even families. Neighbour against neighbour. Brother against brother. All forgetting the higher law about loving one’s neighbour as oneself.
Ancient Samuel taught the people sound doctrine, and therein laid their hope. Modern prophet Boyd K. Packer taught that true doctrine has a greater ability to change behaviour than any other course of action, and it proves itself out in story after story throughout the Book of Mormon. After some stern chastisement, Samuel prophecies about specific signs to be given by which the people will know that the Messiah is born in the land of Jerusalem. The people knew for decades that the time was nigh, but if was always something vaguely in the future. Samuel gives specific details regarding a firm time within which to see these signs. “FIVE years” he says. Five years is a frighteningly short time, even if one has waited six centuries to get there
In our day, Russel M. Nelson teaches sound and pertinent doctrine, and herein lies OUR hope. He teaches about gratitude and of acknowledging the good that surrounds us. He teaches tolerance and racial unity. He teaches about the critical role we play in the Gathering of Israel, and admonishes us to focus on our responsibility to accomplish it. He teaches us to love our neighbour and obey the laws of the land. He uses social media posts to reach the people on our own level – wherever that may be. He has found his wall. He teaches us about love at home, and the responsibility of the home in training and strengthening children.
“I speak unto you as if ye were present, and yet ye are not. But behold, Jesus Christ hath shown you unto me” Mormon 8:35
In Samuel’s day, many who believed went forth to be baptized. Many more did not. The chasm that separated those who believed and those who did not believe grew to a wide fissure, a gorge.
I am not trying to sound like I think I know the answers to our problems today. That is why we have prophets. I am just overwhelmed by the similarity between the world I am reading about which unfolded over 2000 years ago (as they awaited the birth of the Messiah), and the world I live in in 2020 (as we await the return of that same Saviour). The more things change the more things stay the same, I guess. Mormon testified “I speak unto you as if ye were present, and yet ye are not. But behold, Jesus Christ hath shown you unto me, and I know your doing. And I know that ye do walk in the pride of your hearts; and there are none save a few only who do not lift themselves up in the pride of their hearts, …. For behold ye do love money and your substance and your fine apparel … more than ye love the poor and the needy, the sick and the afflicted. …” (Mormon 8: 35-41) I think he pegged us. I think we can learn a lot from a book which was written by a people who’ve been where we are now. I’d hate to repeat ALL their mistakes. Just sayin’.
All things which come of the earth, in the season thereof, are made for the benefit and the use of man, both to please the eye and to gladden the heart. (D&C 59:18).
Gardening is a lot about preparation. And waiting. You clean up, rake out, dig up, move around, plan for, mow, chop, burn, haul here and haul there for days and days. It means dirty hands, dirty-all-over, and sore muscles. Then you wait till the forecast is favourable and finally you plant! If you’re like me you plant in stages. Spinach first, assuming it’s bed is ready. Then potatoes and peas, carrots and beets and so forth. Lastly are the delicate bedding plants like tomatoes, hoping that you’re not jumping the gun. And very lastly is basil (persnickety little princess that it is). Its a happy day when everything is looking your way, and the sun appears to commit to a lengthy stay – the tomatoes are finally into their summer home. And then! . . . you wait. . . . sigh . . . .
I cannot be the only gardener who wishes things would grow a littler faster. We can prepare the beds, fertilize, water, mulch, weed and water some more, but I’ve never met a seed in a hurry. Every year I try to be more realistic. “Get real!” I tell myself. “Stop peeking.” I tell myself. And I do. For maybe a week. Then we get a good two day rain, and I cannot help but take the inevitable day-after-the-rain-garden-tour, looking closely for any shoots of . . . anything. If I was honest, I am always disappointed. Having said that however, I am still utterly amazed at the difference two weeks in May can make to a garden.
May 1: my world is brown. A few hearty weeds starting to unashamedly show themselves, and the promise of buds on a few early trees.
May 15: The trailing bell flower (I call it devil-weed) is the most hardy green thing in the yard and it’s happy to be alive. (I’m not happy its alive) Dandelion leaves are beautifully tender in texture and taste. More buds on more trees. Most perennials are up, even the hostas have started poking their pointy heads through. Leaves have budded out on the chestnut tree. Blossoms on the Mayday tree, and the scent of them on the breeze. Tulips are blooming. Things are starting to green up.
May 21:
The stupid red lily beetles have sprung out of NOWHERE and are eating every relative of the lily family for miles around. Pink blossoms on the crabapple trees, and white blossoms on the cherry tree. Popcorn literally popping on trees all over our yard. The Delphiniums are two feet high. Mint is poking through the soil. Borage is in the four leaf stage. Mullein is nice and big and fuzzy. Lovage is already three feet high. The bright cheery yellow daisy-like flowers of Leopard Bain are in glorious full bloom. The world is suddenly every shade of green!
June 1: The garden is full of promise and hope! Above all, hope. When all is said and done, after all is said and done – there is nothing one can do to rush the outcome. What if the carrot seeds don’t germinate? What if that one time I let it go dry was the critical time when they were their most vulnerable? What if stupid idiot cutworms cut the cucumbers off again? (stupid idiot cutworms) What if it hails? I hate hail.
faith vs hope
“One of the most delightful things about a garden is the anticipation it provides.” – W. E. Johns
I do not have faith that my seeds will germinate. That would be a misplacement of my faith, as I have seen times that seeds have not germinated. Many factors influence that outcome. Of course, I HOPE they will, and I water them as if they will, and I keep hoping till I see it actually happen.
I don’t even have faith that I will have a harvest. Again I hope every year for a good harvest, but my faith is reserved for something much more dependable than the weather, or the fickle nature of ‘nature’. I have faith in God, and in His Son Jesus Christ. I have faith that He will answer my prayers, and that He will bless me according to my diligence and obedience to the laws and principles upon which those blessings are predicated, and of course those He desires to bless me with. I have faith in His promises; promises like families are eternal and that I will see my dad again. Other things I don’t have faith in.
For my garden, I hope the weather will be good. I hope that the sun will be hot. I hope that we’ll get enough rain and that our rain barrels will refill frequently. I hope that day will follow night, and that night will follow day again the way I’m used to. The way I like it. But this year of Covid19 has taught me that even the things I thought were constant and dependable, are volatile and removable. Do I have faith that life will always be what it is right now? Absolutely not.
If there was no hope in a harvest why would we plant a garden?
our city backyard family garden cc 1988
I love garden fresh carrots. Crunchy and juicy at the same time, there is nothing quite like them. But carrot seeds are very small and they take forever to germinate, and keeping them moist while they germinate is critical and truth be told, . . . . . I’m not always on top of it. Watering them can cause a flood and push them all into one area leaving another area empty. You could easily have 8 billion carrots growing so closely together that you must thin them out or they’ll be puny, spindly, little things.
This year I hit upon two reeeeeally good ideas for growing carrots and I happily carried them out. One was to soak the seeds for four days till they begin to sprout, then suspend them in a cornstarch slurry inside a small ziplock bag. You plant them through a small hole snipped in the corner of the bag, squeezing the slurry of seeds into a pre-watered trench. The other idea was to sprinkle the seeds into a pre-watered area and then keep them under a board to protect them from drying out or from being washed away by water. Both hacks required constant moisture of course. I used the best of both ideas and was ‘hopeful’ (even giddy) for excellent results, reasonably certain of a positive outcome. Between hand watering and the rain, I was confident the row never dried out. After about a week I allowed myself to peek, and thereafter peeked almost daily. Carrots can take an easy twenty plus days to germinate (I told you they took forever), but I was delighted to see little white spears poking out of the ground in less than two weeks. I gingerly lifted off the boards to let the sunlight start greening them up. The ground seemed moist enough but I soon got distracted and didn’t get back to them till the next day. Bone dry with not a sign of seedlings I saw the day before. (sad face) I was certain I had killed the tender startlings by uncovering them too soon. I hoped I hadn’t. I watered gently and often, continuing to ‘hope’ for the best but I had lost my prior confidence. I was just considering taking next year’s seeds (I always buy one year in advance) to begin soaking them. Our season is short enough, that every day that goes by gets closer to being too late to start seeds in the garden, so I didn’t have a lotta flex time to weigh it out. I continued to hope, watering daily for the best possible scenario, and checking daily. A few more days and I saw those wonderful grassy-looking tiny bright green speers poking through the dirt along the carrot trails! I am SO glad I didn’t give up.
If hope hadn’t existed I would have ceased to water, ceased to check daily, ceased to expect the best, and consequently I would have sabotaged potential, losing any chance of carrots in my garden this year.
“When the world says give up, hope whispers ‘try it one more time.‘” – anonymous
Hope is a choice. It doesn’t just happen to us; we consciously and intentionally choose it. Hope strengthens us mentally and emotionally. Hope provides a positive outlook on life. It literally makes us happy. Hope reduces stress and anxiety. Hope improves our general state of health and boosts our immune system. Hope is essential to our feelings of self worth. Hope moves us forward and makes the future look like a brighter place, one in which we’d like to live. Hope energizes us. When we are positive and cheerful it is easier to have energy. Hope increases faith. And faith increases hope. They are very closely tied together Hope is healing. Depression is a state of hopelessness, and the opposite is true. Hope is not stagnate, it is all about ‘doing‘. Acting on hope yields more results than sitting on hope. Hope is infectious. Just like laughing makes us laugh and smiling makes us smile, hope in another inspires hope in ourselves. Hope is realistic. Hope in a fairy tale world is not hope, its fantasy. Hope for a pony while you live in an apartment is not hope, it is pleasant musing.
“Every thing that is done is this world is done by hope.” – Martin Luther
The truth is, hope may let you down. It seems cruel but sometimes even those things we have the greatest amount of hope for, don’t happen. Its at those times we wonder why we ever invested in it. It seems briefly that had we not hoped, we wouldn’t have fallen so far, and wouldn’t hurt so much. But for the most part, hope is such a pleasant companion while we’re walking with it, that at the end of the journey, we decide it really was worth it, and we yearn to walk with it again, because with hope everything looked brighter, and our days were better. I wouldn’t ever want to live without it. No matter what happens, I hope ‘hope’ and I can always be friends.
“Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for.” ― Epicurus
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The next few blog posts will follow the theme of Lessons I learned from my Garden. I hope you’ll join me. I would love to hear your comments, and your own experiences about lessons learned in your own garden.
