From Hart to Hearts
A Message from Rev Linda Hart for the Month of October
In early summer, the young family that lives in one of the flats near the manse got ambitious. One day while walking by I spotted packages of compost and bricks and seed packets and small plants arranged outside the door into one of the ground floor residences. Over the next few days, their plans took shape as the dug out the grass next to their door, set the decorative bricks in place and filled it with compost and then tucked all the plants in. There were flowers and tomato plants and small unidentifiable things starting to grow. Though I never stopped to tell them, I loved the little garden and was doubly charmed when the family in the flat next door to them did the same.
Each time I noticed the garden, it gave me a bit of a lift. There was something so hopeful about it.
At the same time, we were nurturing the little surprise we had in one of the large pots we had in our back garden. A few seeds from last year’s tomato plants had germinated, and we had hardy plants growing. Peter nurtured the plants along, and we were delighted to see it flower and set fruit. Life in its glory and promise in our back garden. All this while we were still enjoying the nasturtiums that we planted our first summer which have re-seeded every year into a wild profusion of plants. There is something deeply satisfying and inspiring about plants that just do what they’re supposed to do without much assistance from us humans.
There was still one more glimpse of hope and life for us to view. Returning from a holiday, we discovered that another stray tomato seed had found its way into the cracks of the pavers in the back garden and found enough of the earth underneath to begin to grow. Again, Peter did what he could to nurture it along, though it had sprouted late enough in the season that it was unlikely to ever give us tomatoes we could eat, but nevermind. It still gave me (and Peter) pleasure to see it growing strong and vigorous.
The end of the summer passed, we ate lovely cherry tomatoes, and admired the persistence of the in-the-cracks tomato plant that endured even after falling over.
Then, suddenly in the mornings there was a bit of crispness, and it was clear that autumn was underway.
That’s when the final gift of summer came along. Walking past the two garden plots outside the flats, I spotted the tassels that are the sure sign of a sweetcorn plant growing. They had planted two or three sweetcorn plants outside their door! Only two feet high, it was impossible for them to be actually producing ears of corn. Indeed, tucked away in a small plot of earth, shaded by enormous trees that surrounded them – not to mention the cool cloudiness of English summer – they would have never grown big enough to produce anything but their tassels.
The sweetcorn, the gift of tomatoes that we didn’t plant, and the persistence of the seeds that brought to life flowers and plants that we had done nothing to bring into existence gives me a little hope even when the world seems dark.
What small sweet things have given you hope as we come into autumn? I trust that if we look at the world rightly, they are all around us.
See you in church!
Linda
October Prayer
Sometimes we reach out to the Eternal Mystery and cry or we reach the ear of a friend and draw comfort. There are moments when we watch our children and wonder if we are worthy, or times we visit the graveside of our loved one and hope we can let go a little more. Sometimes we prance through the woods and reach for a falling leaf before it touches the ground, or laugh for no reason at all.
It is not the cry, the comfort, the wondering, the visit, the prance or the laugh which matters. It is the reaching out. May we have the courage to do so forever and ever.
Amen.
~ Elizabeth Espenshade
