Digging In The Dirt

Digging in the Dirt

ALTHOUGH I’M A CITY GIRL today, I wasn’t always. My roots run three generations deep in a small Texas town of 777 souls where every house had a front porch; where most every man, woman, and child knew a funny story about my grandmother; and where every family living along our country road had their very own personal vegetable garden. Now, I’m not talking about one of these sissy gardens that city folks have, where they grow tomatoes in terra cotta pots. No—I’m talkin’ ’bout a real garden with rows and rows and rows of fresh vegetables.

My dad loved his garden, not just for the bountiful harvest it produced for his family, but for the pleasure he gained in tending something from a tiny seed and working intimately with nature. Although I whined incessantly about picking okra in the 100-degree heat, I loved his garden too, because it was an activity I could share with him. Little did I know that decades later I would realize another benefit from digging in the dirt: in the garden I gleaned important business principles by walking the rows, planting by the moon, and learning to share our abundance.

Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me. (John 15:4, NASB)

The cicadas are humming, the tomatoes are ripening, and the green onions are calling out to be pulled. So pull on your garden shoes and come with me to the garden. And bring a grocery sack. It’s picking time—and we have business to tend to.