A Gardener's Faith

It's a beautiful fall day, and I'm planting daffodil bulbs.

It takes faith to plant bulbs.  You put this dead thing in the ground in autumn, let the snow fly all winter, and then expect it to pop it's yellow cheery head up in the spring.  But every gardner I know of has faith that it WILL happen (otherwise, why waste the money and the time?)

Why do I have faith in those bulbs?  Because I've done this enough to know that it really does work.  Those dead little blobs really have a secret life hidden inside.  They have a will to live, to grow.  And unless the squirrels, the moles, or the occasional horrific winter does them in, I expect to see yellow and white greet me in the spring.

Non-gardeners may not understand this hope that drives us in September and October (and, yes, I've even been known to sneak a few tulip bulbs into the ground in November).  But for gardeners it's the hope that gets us through a long winter.

Planting a church is alot like planting a bulb.  It takes alot of faith and hope.  You plant.  You wait.  You let the snow fly.  You hope the squirrels and the moles aren't digging up what you've planted.  And you keep waiting for cheery yellow to surprise you in the spring.  And when you catch sight of something blooming that you planted?  There's a joy that only a planter may understand...