For everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven. Ecclesiastes 3:1

            

I pulled out the rest of my summer garden last weekend. I always have a hard time making the decision to close the garden for the season, even when I know it is time. 

Even as I walked out into the crisp Saturday morning with tools in hand, I hesitated when I saw the abundance of tiny peppers, eggplants, tomatoes, and okra still appearing on each plant. But harvesting the last of the mature fruits only to find at least half of them marked by holes from garden pests whose eggs had hatched in the late-summer warmth assured me that I would receive diminishing returns on any remaining efforts, and delaying in order to pick a few more mouthfuls of summer flavor would only make next year’s bug battles harder.

So, reluctantly, I filled my baskets one last time, cut all the plants down, and went inside to begin freezing the garden’s final bounty.

I love gardening as much for the lessons it teaches as the produce it yields. Putting my hands in the dirt is a profoundly spiritual exercise, and in quiet communion with the plants and pollinators, I often hear their Creator speak. The garden sometimes reveals truths about God, but I’ve also learned to be attentive to what it teaches me about myself. 

So as I trimmed and pulled on Saturday, I discovered that my difficulty with knowing when to pull the garden is not unlike so many other questions of knowing when to let go. 

Perhaps changes of season are hard for many of us who are moms and ministers because we are called to invest ourselves in growing things. We pour our love, creativity, and energy into ministries, places, and especially people, hoping they will flourish in our care. They become an extension of our own identities and a witness of God’s working in the world. In our best moments, that divine partnership produces gifts that nourish and comfort, but in our desire to nurture, we can sometimes hold on too long. 

Changes of season can be difficult to discern and even harder to accept. With our own children as they mature, in our places of ministry, or in the seasons of our own lives, knowing when to prune and till for a new season can feel like loss, but allowing things that have been lovely and useful to die away in the proper time so that they can feed new growth helps to bring fresh beauty, even when the process is uncertain and difficult. Changes of season require trust and faith, but they can also cultivate hope, and with it, new life. 

I haven’t yet finished cleaning up from my work last weekend. What has been harvested will be preserved to help feed my family in the coming months. Healthy growth that has been cut away will be composted to fertilize next year’s garden. What is spoiled will be discarded. And in due season, spring will come, I will plant–hopefully with a little more wisdom and patience than before–and I will trust that God will bring new growth once again. 

Rev. Elizabeth Jones Edwards serves as Associate Minister at Lakeside Baptist Church in Rocky Mount, NC.