My roommates puppy got into one of my trays of garden starts. Lettuce, tomato, carrots and peppers. They were all doing really well. I was so excited to see the fruits of my dedication come summer time. I went out on the deck and just sat and stared and wept at the pile of what had been promises of sweet summer time and dirty hands and fresh food. A few minutes later my roommate graciously came to my rescue with potting soil and new trays, ready to doctor it up. We scooped up the survivors and cleared away the mess. In the end, I had at least two of each kind that made it through.
Later, as I was weeding the garden beds, I thought about why I cried. I didn't cry because I would go hungry. Between my roommate and I, we have an abundance of seeds and will have a huge crop this summer. I didn't cry because I'd lost a monetary investment. Seeds are next to nothing and the soil I received free. Those were the two reasons a simple farmer would have heartache over lost crop. My heartache was because they were my babies. This is my first year raising a garden all on my own. I was so proud of my crop and how well they were growing. Proud. My pride. Pride comes before the fall. And today I fell. I was investing so much of my focus and drive into what may never be, which I find myself doing in so many areas of my life. And when things don't go as planned, my heart sinks. I become discouraged. All hope is lost because I'm blind to the hope that surrounds me.
When I realized this I stopped and said sorry. At that moment the sun peaked through the clouds and warmed my back. I looked out over the yard, speckled with bursts of yellow dandelions, the grass blowing in the breeze and smiled. He is faithful to forgive. I whispered thank you as I took a deep breath and dug back into the soil.
It was a lose. But it was just seeds. Life goes on.