Gardner's Journal

I've been considering peat moss this morning. Peat moss and forgiveness.

The two are quite the same, you know. Let me explain.

If you've ever driven through Oklahoma and witnessed our "red dirt" then you know that our dirt here is a bit different than most. It is hardly what one might call "dirt". Clay is more the word for it. Clay that is soggy in the rainy months, brittle and hard in the summer.

Very little grows in clay. Weeds, maybe. And ant farms. Lots of ant farms.

Kind of like some hearts I've known. Kind of like my heart, at times.

For the clay to yield anything good it needs a strong transfusion of things to incorporate air into it -- sand, topsoil and that sweet, sweet thing called peat moss.

This morning, I was ankle deep in mud from the storms that blew through my garden last night. Not run down your ankles mud...but mud that sticks, like glue, disallowing movement.

Like I said, kind of like my heart sometimes.

We christians are a strange lot. We run around this time of year, getting our pastel prints, donning our favorite clothes, making sure we have plenty to eat, rushing to meet deadlines and parents.

Yet we forget about the transfusion that we need -- that we must have -- to be vessels of life.

I remember once asking my grandmother about forgiveness. It was some scuffle that I had with one of my brothers. Being the only girl, I was often the butt of jokes, often left out. After one particularly difficult time, I remember tearfully asking, "So how am I suppose to forgive...just let them off the hook like that?"

I'll never forget her response. She looked me directly in the eye and replied, softly, "You don't. You don't let them off the hook. You let yourself off."

Loamy peat moss transforms the hard Oklahoma clay into something good, something that can sustain life, something that can bring forth beauty. The transfusion is hard work -- in a sense the clay gives up what it once was...it becomes something different entirely.

But without that transfusion -- that transformation, it is hard, brittle dry. Useless. Cold. Easily broken.

While on my knees this morning (which I why I believe there is a spiritual connection between gardening and people) I prayed for the grace to forgive those in my life -- and to be forgiven. To me, this is the essence of this season of renewal.