The First Sprout
Last summer I read a book that motivated me (okay, convicted me really) to become a better steward of the one good, green Earth God gave us. I replaced all our plastic Ziploc bags with washable, reusable ones. I added a recycling bin to every room in our house. I switched to fabric grocery bags. I started saving all our recyclable trash for our daughter’s art projects. I bought a compost bin. You get the idea. My biggest endeavor though was planting a garden. Me. The woman so thrilled to move to Arizona because of the scarcity of yard work.
I cried tears of joy when we sold both our lawnmower and weed eater before leaving Northern California. Here in the desert, our front yard is rocks and our backyard is astroturf. (Yes, plastic grass.) My pots on the patio contain cactus and succulents exclusively. They need watering almost never. They are the perfect fit for someone like me who has never succeeded at growing even the most beginner-friendly of plants.
A garden was going to be a challenge, not just because of my black thumb, but because the climate here in the desert isn’t exactly conducive for lush, green foliage. (I had to Google, “opposite of green thumb.” That’s how dense I am about gardening.) Despite the obvious obstacles in my way, I bought a raised garden box and some organic soil. I read the packages of various types of seeds. I followed the instructions to the letter. I babied that garden every day. I prayed over it, (seriously). Not too long after, I saw my first sprout. From that sprout, my first bell pepper. My pride in that sprout was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. I called my parents via FaceTime just to show them. I’m a grown adult and I called my parents to say, “Look what I did! I’M A GARDENER!” God bless them. They praised me and told me how great it was. If I’d asked them, they probably would have put a picture of my bell pepper on their fridge.
This story has a point, and it’s not about perseverance or following through on hard things, because the God’s honest truth is that not even two months later I sold my garden box to the highest bidder on an online yard sale and I have zero regrets about it. (It turns out I’m not a fan of manual labor.) My point is this blog, like my garden, started as an idea; a tiny, quiet voice in the back of my head many years ago. I pushed it aside, waiting for the right time, for enough time, for courage, for my skills to be better honed, for someone to tell me I was good enough to put myself out there. I waited for the voice to get louder. For me to feel motivated (okay, convicted) to write, I had to hear a voice louder than my fear. Now I have.
1 Peter 4:10-11 says, “Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in various forms. If anyone speaks, they should do so as one who speaks the very words of God. If anyone serves, they should do so with the strength God provides, so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ. To him be the glory and the power forever and ever. Amen.” My gifts, and your gifts, are meant to be used, but not just for ourselves. Our gifts are meant to benefit others. Laziness, fear, stubbornness, and insecurity are all excuses we make. They were my excuses. What are yours? What’s the quiet voice in the back of your mind telling you to try, to pursue, to act on?
Today, the tiny idea that was so quietly whispered in my heart all those years ago has sprouted. This first post is my way of shouting, “Look what I’m doing! I’M A BLOGGER!” I don’t expect you to sing my praises. I don’t need you to. I’m grateful for the opportunity to represent God through this blog. It’s a great responsibility to do so, even in the smallest parts of my day, my daily grind, if you will. “To him be the glory and the power forever and ever. Amen.”