To everything there is a season,
and a time for every matter or purpose under heaven:
A time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot . . ."
Ecclesiastes 3:1, 2
Today, we uprooted . . .
For nearly 25 years, my husband planted a garden every spring, using a parcel of borrowed land near our home. He planted strawberries, lettuce, potatoes, asparagus, beets, cabbage, beans, peppers, onions, broccoli, Swiss chard, chives, tomatoes, and flowers of every color. Over time, He also "planted" pavers, wooden planks, and even unused siding to keep the weeds down. He dug shallow ditches to drain the land when it rained too much and to irrigate the rows when it didn't rain enough. His system worked--most of the time.
|Barry and Sharon in the Garden|
After Barry passed away in May, we did all we could to keep the garden going. We planted, weeded, and watered. We ate the asparagus he pampered, dug the potatoes he planted, harvested the cabbages and onions he bought and Elisabeth planted per his instructions. We put in ten tomato plants which, thanks to his drainage system, flourished.
But today, we uprooted.
It became apparent that we could no longer keep up the huge garden across the street. It wasn't an easy decision. Summit University's Community Appreciation Day brought a wonderful group of students and a couple of faculty members to the garden. They gathered and hauled planks, buckets, and siding back to the house. They pulled stakes and fence (over 800 pounds in all), loaded it into a pick-up, and hauled it away for scrap. All accomplished with a willing cheerfulness and kindness I will never forget. Sincere thanks to each one. Bless you all.
Yet, there's a certain grieving that comes with uprooting. Uprooting marks the end of an era, the end of one more memory associated with Barry. And because of that, I had a good cry tonight while washing the supper dishes.
It seems we spend so much energy planting, getting established, gathering possessions, living out the American dream. And then, as the years slip away, we find ourselves downsizing, giving things away, simplifying. It's time to uproot.
I'll miss Barry's garden. At the same time I'll treasure the memories and all I learned from the man with the green thumb.
This is a beautiful remembrance of Barry in his garden. Sigh. Thank you painting the details with your words. They always help me to see things from a little different perspective--yours--and I love it!ReplyDelete
Thanks, Deb . . . appreciate your encouragement. Looking ahead to a little garden in our yard next year. I'll be checking Susan's book with your illustrations for advice!Delete
Appreciate your encouragement, Jo Ann. You continue to be an inspiration to me in this new chapter of life. "You are never alone" rings true every day. Thanks.Delete
Such a beautiful tribute.ReplyDelete
Glad you enjoyed it. Blessings to you.Delete
Thank you Sarah. Once more you made me look deeper into the every "dayness" of my life. We all plant and sow and uproot in so many different ways as we live each day to serve our Gardener. Blessings to you dear friend.ReplyDelete
So nice to read your comments, Vi. We are all planting and uprooting in a variety of ways. Good thought. Blessings back to you. Hope all is well.Delete
What a great legacy he left ... one of many! Beautifully written, Sarah...ReplyDelete
He did leave a wonderful legacy. I'm still learning about him in different ways as I sift through his papers and books . . . still finding treasures.Thanks so much.Delete
So succinct and so powerful. Dr Phillips touched more lives (and generations!) than can be counted.ReplyDelete
Thanks so much. We never know how God will use a life to touch others . . . Blessings to you.Delete
How awesome that his years of "planting" his knowledge of gardening into his daughters will continue to grow in them and their families for many, many years. Love, Laura SmithReplyDelete
Thanks, Laura, for taking the time to read about "the garden." I'm so grateful for all the years we worked together in this space. I enjoy seeing Barry in different ways in each one of the girls. Blessings to you and your family.Delete
what to say, when you have said so much about this man of God, your husband.....reality hurts...memories linger forever...thx for sharing from your heart Sarah! xo LaureenReplyDelete
Thanks for your thoughts, Laureen. You're right: reality does hurt sometimes. Grateful for the many good memories . . . helps to write them down, Thanks for your encouragement.Delete
I happened on this post and thought of how hard that would be. My husband is our 'green thumb' and I can relate to so much of what you wrote as you described Barry. I love and admire you so much Sarah and pray that as you uproot some things and make changes in other things, while discovering a 'new normal', God will be ever near, walking with you on the journey. Much Love, JulieReplyDelete