Weeds.

“When an evil spirit comes out of a man, it goes through arid places seeking rest and does not find it. Then it says, ‘I will return to the house I left.’ When it arrives, it finds the house unoccupied, swept clean and put in order. Then it goes and takes with it seven other spirits more wicked than itself, and they go in and live there. And the final condition of that man is worse than the first."--Matthew 12:43-45a


My garden and I do not have a good relationship. Maybe this is because it isn't really my garden. My sweetie was the gardener; I applauded the flowers and put up the produce. 

Now it's all mine.


My "method," it seems, is to walk past it, day after day, notice as the vines begin to choke the butterfly bush and boldly extend its tendrils across the front steps to the other side. I curse those vines under my breath and vow to, "Deal with you later, Bucko!"


And off I go. And while I am gone, the weeds titter and giggle behind their thorny leaves, plotting their next attack.


Tuesday last, my daughter and I donned our leather gloves and went at it. We were on the offensive, grabbing armful after armful of vines and weeds, thistles and mint. (Hey, at least you smell better after yanking out lemon balm!)


A flock of goldfinches flew overhead, tweeting and chirping, reminding us how much they love the cone flowers, and please don't yank those!


Swallowtails and monarchs thanked us for freeing up the butterfly bushes.


And when we finished, five large bags of yard waste later, it looked pretty darned nice, especially after a couple hours when the plants had a chance to realize what had happened. Free at last! Free at last! 


Yeah, that was Tuesday. Give it a week, and I will again be glancing at the creeping intruders, cursing not so quietly under my breath, waiting for that first freeze of winter. 


What I really need to do is set aside regular time for gardening, time to be quiet, sit amidst the plants and gently, carefully-- deliberately keep the weeds in check. My helter skelter approach cannot possibly get them all, and my procrastination only allows those unpleasant things to make themselves at home.


So it is with our spiritual health, I believe. Jesus warns us about cleaning house but failing to maintain it afterward. Just as weeds keep returning to my garden whenever my back is turned, so, too, can unwelcome thoughts and old bad habits return if we do not make a conscious effort to keep our spiritual house in order.


How's the prayer life? Do you make time to just sit alone with God, cultivating that which brings God pleasure? Do you make time to worship God-- alone and in community? (Lemme tell you, weeding was much more fun with my daughter. . . .)


I really dislike gardening. That probably will not change. And sometimes-- tending my spiritual garden (my "soul patch"?) can seem equally tedious. But if I am intent on keeping down the underbrush, avoiding prickle bushes in my walk, I need to keep at it. Every day. Because going at it with a machete ; ) doesn't really have the lasting effect a little day-to-day nurturing and pruning does.