Pulling Weeds

Pulling Weeds

For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. . . . A time to tear and a time to mend. A time to be quiet and a time to speak. Ecclesiastes 3:1, 7

While we are to speak the truth in love, that does not mean we ignore situations. Decades ago, I was the youngest member in a four-generation Kentucky farm household. Our little community was filled with hard workers who took pride in their well-fed livestock, neat yards, and productive gardens. But one farmer, whom I’ll call Abe, preferred sitting on his porch to working his field.

In the morning, he’d sit on his front porch and watch the sun rise over the gently rolling hills. In the evening, from his narrow back porch, he had a wonderful view of the sun setting behind the hickory trees lining his property. Each spring, in a burst of energy, he’d plant a big garden but then neglect it, which resulted in a low yield. It wasn’t uncommon for his family to run short of food and have to ask for canned vegetables from neighbors to get through the winter.

Our family’s matriarch was my “waste not, want not” grandmother, Mama Farley, who grew increasingly frustrated by Abe’s wastefulness. Finally, the day came when she finished the morning dishes early, replaced her work apron with her pretty “visiting” apron, and marched down the road to Abe’s house. As usual, he was sitting in a tipped-back chair on the front porch.

“Well, good mornin’, Miz Farley. What brings you here so early?” he asked.

Mama got right to the point. “Abe, you’ve planted another fine garden, but it’s going to weed, just like other years. You’ve got a family to take care of.”

He smiled. “Now, Miz Farley, the Lord always provides. All I have to do is pray.”

Mama Farley’s eyes undoubtedly narrowed as she remembered how often her canned goods had made their way to his table, but she stayed calm.

“Well, Abe,” she said, “why don’t you try praying while you’re out there pulling weeds?”

We noticed his garden had a better yield that summer. —SANDRA

Lord, what a fine line there is between knowing when to be silent and when to speak. I confess I get those times tangled in my mind. Give me your wisdom. Shield me from prideful determination to save the world, but empower me to speak your truth gently, in love, and with respect.

Life is short, but truth works far and lives long; let us speak the truth.

—ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER (1788–1860), GERMAN PHILOSOPHER