Picking or Planting.

February 6, 2013 in creativity, marriage, Uncategorized with 23 Comments

He’s been asked to pick weeds, but he wants to plant a vegetable garden.

This is what he tells me as we sit at the table, poking remnants of our dinner and digging through the hard soil our lives have fallen upon.

You know the feeling when everything you’ve done that day – many days – has yielded nothing?

It’s an apt analogy for this music man of mine, who, when not wrapping his long, curved and calloused fingers around the body of a guitar, loves to wrap them around a shovel to till the ground and make things grow. Herbs, peppers, zucchini, tomato, potato, beans, broccoli. He loves to bring a small harvest home for a good meal.

Today he feels about ready to bury it all – the hope he’s had for his music, the earnest effort of a decade practicing and playing, practicing and playing. It has yet to yield a real career, and he’s tired.

And so I hand him the shovel and take up my own and we keep digging, side by side, separating weeds from wealth, fear from truth.

I have dirt under my finger nails and I can hardly catch my breath but here is what I know :

It is not true that our effort is wasted.

It is not true that we have been given talents and passion that we will never use.

What is true is that some days we have to pick, and some days we have to plant. Some days we have to uproot the lies and wrestle with the weeds and do the tedious tilling.

What is true is that whether we are picking or planting, we will come away dirty and spent, all our work hinged on hope for those seeds we have laid in the soil.

What is true is that soil is made of layers and layers of dead things - shit - and that all that mess is made new when we wait long enough, and with hope.

What is true is that today the ground is cold and the season hasn’t turned. That time is coming, but it is not yet now. And so we wait and work, worry tossed aside as a weed so that our dreams can take root and grow.

 

[Image.]

  • http://www.spiritualglasses.me/ Jennifer Upton

    There hasn’t been a place in my life like the overgrown bed of weeds my husband and I pulled at until our already calloused hands bled, that has taught us more truth by digging up the lies. Your story so resonated with me today. It is simply beautiful….

    • http://www.bethanysuckrow.com/ Bethany Suckrow

      Thank you, Jennifer. It’s a relief to know that we’re not the only ones wrestling, you know? :)

  • http://twitter.com/wendyvaneyck Wendy van Eyck

    Beautiful. I need this reminder that even when we think we’re burying our hopes we are actually planting seeds for the future.

    • http://www.bethanysuckrow.com/ Bethany Suckrow

      “we think we’re burying our hopes we are actually planting seeds for the future.”

      That’s such a wonderful way of expressing that, Wendy. Even after writing this post and hitting publish, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I think you hit the nail on the head there. :)

  • http://www.carisadel.com/ Caris Adel

    This just made me instantly want to cry and I’m not sure why. This is honest – and poetic and good.

    • http://www.bethanysuckrow.com/ Bethany Suckrow

      Well you know what they say… “No tears for the writer, no tears for the reader.” I’ve definitely shed a few over the past few days as I reflected on this piece and wrote it. Must be on the right track, I guess, although I don’t like making people sad. haha. Thanks for reading, friend. :)

  • Joy Lenton

    The tilling can feel full of toil, turmoil and trouble until the messy soil is turned and fresh green shoots of hope appear. Thank you for the reminder. One day we will look back and see the fruit we never realised was growing steadily all the time.

    • http://www.bethanysuckrow.com/ Bethany Suckrow

      Thanks, Joy. :)

  • http://www.emergingmummy.com/ Sarah Bessey

    Oh, Bethany. This aches beauty and truth. We have been in that place – and still are there in many ways – with our work and callings and vocations and lives. Love this metaphor, you are one helluva writer.

    • http://www.bethanysuckrow.com/ Bethany Suckrow

      Thank you so much, Sarah. I made hubs read through all these comments last night because it’s so deeply encouraging for us to hear others say “yeah, we’ve been there.” :)

  • http://www.leighkramer.com/ HopefulLeigh

    Yes, yes, yes. The time is coming. Love this, friend.

    • http://www.bethanysuckrow.com/ Bethany Suckrow

      Thanks, friend.

  • http://www.findingfruit.blogspot.com/ Jen

    To hold his dream for him when he cannot. To hope for one another when we cannot do it ourselves. Love this.

    • http://www.bethanysuckrow.com/ Bethany Suckrow

      YES, Jen. I didn’t say that directly, but that’s what I was feeling when I wrote this. Marriage and friendship is so much like that – holding onto hope for the other when they are losing it. :)

  • http://www.quietanthem.com/ Renee Ronika

    We are here with you, tilling until it’s time. Thank you for this.

    • http://www.bethanysuckrow.com/ Bethany Suckrow

      Thanks, Renee. Glad to have all of you by my side. :)

  • http://cajoh.blogspot.com/ Christopher Johnson

    Reminds me of a part of a poem I wrote “I want my days to be self evident, that all days are created equal” So often we want our days to be productive, but then you have to realize that all days are days within themselves and no matter what you do “that” day, it fits within the overall path that makes up your life.

  • Pingback: the sixty-fourth formica friday | see preston blog

  • mamawest777

    That time is coming, but it is not yet now. – Living this sometimes minute by minute. Completely amazing post

  • http://twitter.com/allyvest Ally Vesterfelt

    “Today he feels about ready to bury it all – the hope he’s had for his music, the earnest effort of a decade practicing and playing, practicing and playing. It has yet to yield a real career, and he’s tired.”

    Tell Matt (and yourself) that I feel like this at least once a week. Then I take a nap, and talk to people who help me pluck my own weeds, and somehow I get ready to start planting again. Today I’ll tell you to “keep going!” and then tomorrow, I’ll probably ask you to tell me :)

    Thank you for sharing Bethany.

  • Pingback: In which I link you up (vol 1.11) | Sarah Bessey

  • http://KatieAxelson.com/ Katie Axelson

    This is beautiful.

  • Hila

    I can relate to this so much. I move between believing what I do – writing – is a worthwhile pursuit and feeling like it will yield nothing. But I agree with you: we are not given talents and passion for nothing, nor are we given struggle for nothing.