the now & the not yet

(*Title inspired by a song of the same title written by Pam Mark-Hall)


We put in a garden yesterday.

I suppose that the term "garden" by be a bit of a stretch. Our plot contains two tomato plants, a single cucumber, and a lone red bell pepper. I admit we're not terribly ambitious. But as our gardening efforts have had somewhat mixed results in the past, it seems like a good start.

I'm glad, I guess. I had been feeling sad that we hadn't put any plants in...actually I had just decided to do it back in March, when we got the offer on our house. So at that point we nixed our plans and started preparing to move. Obviously that hasn't panned out, and our garden has sat ~ lonely, neglected, barren save the weeds. It's been a sore point for me. I had really wanted to give a vegetable garden another try this year, and I felt cheated out of the chance to that by this whole "house thing," as we refer to it around here.

So now, it's in. Hopefully, as long as I remember to water our handful of plants, we'll see some progress, and production. It seems good. Like a step of hope, accepting our circumstances, blooming where we're (still) planted.

But it also makes me sad.

I hadn't expected to spend enough time in this house to eat from a garden this year. And we might not, still. But it's impossible to know, isn't it?

Something that I've been struggling with for a while now is the phrase "we were supposed to be..." We were supposed to be moved by the end of April, then by May 15th at the very latest, and then the end of May. It was supposed to be just fine to pack flip-flops, shorts, the pool, big pots, etc., etc., because we were supposed to be closing in two days. It's easy to feel bitter when I think about how it was "supposed to be."

But over the last few weeks, something in my thinking has shifted. I'm learning to see those things that I used to say were "supposed to be" as our former expectations. Yes, it's hard to let go of expectations. It's hard to accept that we're back to square one with this business of finding a buyer for this house, and a new place to live. It still smarts a bit to think of the dreams we fancied would come true.

But maybe it wasn't supposed to be, after all.

Here's the thing: I'm not a huge believer that"God causes everything." I know that He is over all, and has created this whole big world and everyone in it. I believe that He works, oh yes! But I don't necessarily think that He causes every single event. In fact, I think there's a lot of yucky stuff in life that just simply happens, as they say. It's a consequence of sin in the world, the fall of man. Stuff happens.

The Bible says that "in all things God works for the good of those who love him,^a]">[a] who^b]">[b] have been called according to his purpose." (Romans 8:28) And I believe that as we receive what life hands us, remembering that it comes through His filter, it can and will become a beautiful thing. Maybe not just when we'd like to see the transformation ~ no, it may be a good deal later. Still, God is faithful, operates on his own timetable, and his ways are infinitely "higher." (Isaiah 55:9)

And yet...and yet I can't shake the feeling that God's hand is in this. When we first realized that there may be problems with the sale of our house, I prayed that God would close the door if it wasn't his will for us. The door seems to be clearly closed. While that could just be something that happened, I don't have the sense that it is. I'm not sure what God's doing through this, but I choose to believe that He can create something amazing from what seems to be a mess.

Although we have no idea what the future holds, this is a promise: "^'11 For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the LORD, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'" (Jeremiah 29:11)

He has a plan. So whether this tiny garden brings fruit in the edible sense, increases our house's attractiveness to another buyer, or has merely built us a bit more character, I'll take it.

Whichever it is. As if from His hand.