As I type this entry, I am also overseeing my children playing with friends that are visiting. The dads are in the meat barn trying to figure out where exactly that man on You-Tube said to cut the pig carcass and which part is which. I have faith that they will, between the three of them, successfully end up with pieces that are somewhat identifiable and edible. So I type, while pretending to not pay too much attention to what the children are doing, but all the while listening to every word and tone of every word. Being the steward of another’s heart is no small responsibility. I am always on duty, must be always vigilant, always discerning. Raising children is a lot like vegetable gardening. To have a successful garden, one must be in the garden daily looking for pests, weeds, signs of stress. The same is true for raising children. They require our watchful eyes as well as ears. They require trellises sometimes, too. Some need extra vitamins or minerals that others do not. I have a beautiful child/plant that requires a lot of talking to/carbon dioxide. Another of mine requires a lot of hugs/mulch. There is yet another that I am convinced needs some serious pesticides. And just like a garden that has been faithfully tended yields a bountiful harvest to feed us all season long, so it is with our children. The food we reap from our children are the memories of their smiles, laughter, their warm hugs, snuggles, and as they get older we get glimpses of the people they will grow up to be. We see them make the right choice after struggling with a particular issue, we see them deny themselves and put another first, and we see them lift up their hands and voices in praise to the Great Creator of the universe as they stand with us in corporate worship instead of coloring a picture in another building. The harvest we reap after investing our time in the garden of our children’s lives is eternal. I thank the Lord of the Harvest for blessing me with the privilege of tending a small portion of His great garden.
As I type this entry, I am also overseeing my children playing with friends that are visiting. The dads are in the meat barn trying to figure out where exactly that man on You-Tube said to cut the pig carcass and which part is which. I have faith that they will, between the three of them, successfully end up with pieces that are somewhat identifiable and edible. So I type, while pretending to not pay too much attention to what the children are doing, but all the while listening to every word and tone of every word. Being the steward of another’s heart is no small responsibility. I am always on duty, must be always vigilant, always discerning. Raising children is a lot like vegetable gardening. To have a successful garden, one must be in the garden daily looking for pests, weeds, signs of stress. The same is true for raising children. They require our watchful eyes as well as ears. They require trellises sometimes, too. Some need extra vitamins or minerals that others do not. I have a beautiful child/plant that requires a lot of talking to/carbon dioxide. Another of mine requires a lot of hugs/mulch. There is yet another that I am convinced needs some serious pesticides. And just like a garden that has been faithfully tended yields a bountiful harvest to feed us all season long, so it is with our children. The food we reap from our children are the memories of their smiles, laughter, their warm hugs, snuggles, and as they get older we get glimpses of the people they will grow up to be. We see them make the right choice after struggling with a particular issue, we see them deny themselves and put another first, and we see them lift up their hands and voices in praise to the Great Creator of the universe as they stand with us in corporate worship instead of coloring a picture in another building. The harvest we reap after investing our time in the garden of our children’s lives is eternal. I thank the Lord of the Harvest for blessing me with the privilege of tending a small portion of His great garden.
I just love your comparisons with the children and a garden. Beautiful analogies. Mine is like a wild daisy. Sweet and simple. I *loves* her!
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