“Give a person a fish, they eat for a day. Teach a person to garden, and the whole neighborhood gets tomatoes.”
—Unknown

My grandfather’s farm was in the middle of nowhere, Georgia. When my family would visit, he would often complain to my dad that my sister and I were too much like city folk. We didn’t know how to tend to the animals, we knew nothing about the crops, and we were always hollerin’ at this or that. I would complain to my mother about how I would never do this or that on a farm.

I now dream of moving back to that land—which, as a kid, I didn’t understand. I think about the animals I want on my farm and how I want to sit on my porch in my rocking chair, looking out over the land just like my granddaddy did. I also wish I’d paid more attention to my father’s beautiful, lush garden because until this year, my garden never produced enough for my family of four to eat.

This year, my garden gave me hope: I managed to get one ear of corn, four strawberries, and three jalapeños. But there was a surprise, too: for the first time, I used as much dirt as I could from my composting. As the garden flourished, I noticed something growing. To my amazement, I was growing massive amounts of butternut squash!

The curious part is that I’ve never planted butternut squash. I do, however, make butternut squash soup every winter—and always put the seeds in my compost. The crop that’s grown most abundantly came from seeds that had been part of my compost dirt! The squash that grew were large and heavy; beautiful and tasty. I had to give lots of it away. (What I now know for sure is that my farm will have butternut squash!)

I’ve dreamed of gardening and living in a way where there is enough for my family, and plenty to share. And even when I couldn’t figure out how, still this year my garden grew enough. My life is often like this: I dream of ways to share but rarely have enough for the four of us. Yet sometimes, even still, my life garden grows and there is plenty to share.

Prayer

Oh, Abundant Source of Life, may we recognize that our gardens and our lives can grow abundantly, even when we don’t understand how, and that there is always enough to share.