Dirt under my nails

One of the very first things Alyssa and I had in mind after we bought Grandpa's house was to pull out the decades-old, four-foot-tall hedgerow and replace it with a variety of smaller plants that would make the house look bigger and reveal the floor-to-ceiling windows that give the front of the house it's architectural interest. But soon after settling into the house it was winter, and no time to dig up the only evergreen plants in the yard. Then came spring, and with it Alyssa's father. He planted three new trees for us on one trip and labored with me to dig up 200-square-feet of Nandina bushes (ironically nicknamed "Heavenly Bamboo") that had threatened to take over the backyard. He wanted to help with the beds in front, but I didn't have a plan yet, and really wanted Alyssa and I to make that mark on our landscape by ourselves. Before you knew it, we were tied up every weekend with weeding and mowing and having the outside of the house painted. By the time the dust settled, it was late spring. I figured it was about time I got to work on those shrubs, before it was winter all over again.

Two broken shovels and two grueling weeks later, I had done it. I discovered just how much dirt an old shrub could hold in its tightly-clenched roots, and just how much that ball of dirt could weigh. I discovered the only thing worse than digging in Dallas clay when it's dry is digging in Dallas clay when it's wet. I discovered just how much leverage should come from the handle of your shovel and just how much should come from your spine. I discovered that passers-by never grow tired of watching you work like a dog. But I had done it. Now all we had to do devise a bedding plan, reshape the beds, till some organic matter into the soil, buy new plants, plant the plants, mulch the beds and add water.

Then came the hitch.

I was laid off. Well, technically, I laid myself off. But when your boss stops being able to come up with payroll, what's the difference? Let's just say I found myself gainlessly unemployed. And suddenly, new plants weren't in the budget.

But God is faithful. I started putting out feelers for work, full-time or freelance, and the work has come. And business has boomed for Alyssa. For now, by God's grace, we're surviving and we both get to work out of our home. And we're back to working on the beds out front, in the heat of summer. And if I do say so myself, the beds are looking lovely.

God's been whispering to me while I've been digging up, weeding and planting. "Get your hands dirty", He says. I'm reminded of my part in all of this: to seek, to knock, to ask. And I'm reminded to expect much, because He is a good father who gives good gifts to His children.