Digging Out

This is one of those tasks that feels a bit pointless to me. Not the actual shoveling and spreading of the compost. That has become a high priority now that we are ready to shift our gardening into high gear. But the fact that I am the one attempting to do it. Me, with my meager upper body strength. Me, with more than twenty pounds* of baby strapped on my back, making every movement slower and more tiresome. Me, with the inevitable interruptions every three and a half minutes. It begins to feel a bit like I'm shoveling with a teaspoon, making little headway. I wheel some of the compost over to a garden box, dump it on, spread it out, and I've hardly made any impact. Millie clamors for a turn. It's hard work, I warn her. The shovel is heavy, I say. She'll give up in two minutes, I think. But she doesn't. She happily works away, her pace probably as good as my own, and I leave her to it.

I am back the next day, digging again. Eager to get this black gold onto the beds. And even though Tom could do this faster, probably four times faster considering he is stronger and would have no interruptions and no baby tied on, here I am. I'm tempted to just let him do it**. It would make more sense. But I'm digging. Not just shoveling compost, but doing something because I need to do something. I'm digging out from disappointment. Trying to work through the why and what next. Knowing that God's hand holds mine, that I am poor in spirit, and it is this poverty that leads me back to God's grace.

And my thoughts turn to this miracle. This dirt under my feet; made up of the discarded, unwanted, unneeded. No use for these scraps - throw them out. And now they are transformed. The stuff that will bring life, growth, sustenance. Fruit of value and beauty. Right in my backyard, and I am grateful.

*I'm not actually sure how much Naomi weighs. But I'm sure she's at least 20 pounds. She is a chunky, heavy baby.
**In the end, Tom finished spreading the compost. In no time, I might add.