By Amy Butler
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my flower boxes, and about being a pastor, and how the two have so much in common. It could be this musing is coming about because of post-traumatic stress following Easter, but let’s be honest — this is not such a far-fetched train of thought for me in the best of times.
I got to thinking about this a few weeks ago when I spent the better part of two afternoons planting 12 flower boxes on my balcony. It was hard work; the soil in the boxes had become dried out and packed down over a long hard winter, so my first task was cleaning out all the dead plants and debris and loosening the dirt. My neighbor, who is an organic gardener, then explained that I needed to fill the boxes a little more with compost, so I lugged a couple bags of compost up the stairs and dutifully filled the boxes until they were full.
After that the fun part came. I had chosen a wild mixture of salvia and marigolds, daisies and phlox to plant in the downstairs boxes, so I spent hours taking plants from the nursery out of their pots, loosening their roots, breaking them apart, then evenly spacing them out in the boxes until they looked like my memories of roadside wildflower meadows in Texas this time of year. I was very proud. I then began on the other six boxes, which were planted with four full flats of pink impatiens. I took each little plant out of its plastic seedling tray and placed it in the box, alternating front and back until the box was full. When I finished with these boxes they looked like the perfectly manicured window boxes I saw one summer when I traveled in Austria. Beautiful!
It’s been a couple of weeks since that planting marathon and I am discovering that what I’d thought was the hardest part of creating beautiful window boxes — those two grueling afternoons of planting — was actually just the tip of the iceberg. See, my flower boxes are hung on two balconies, up two flights of stairs, in full sun, with no access to water close by. Which means every morning I find myself filling a watering can, clomping up the stairs, lifting the heavy water container, spilling water all over myself, and hopefully getting some of it on the plants. Repeat. Repeat again.
I must confess, I am getting tired of this.
When I had the great idea to plant all those window boxes, I didn’t think much past which colors would look the best outside my windows. I’m starting to realize, though, that the real work of tending my flower boxes happens now, in the day-in-and-day-out drudgery of watering, tending and fertilizing. I look around at the plants that, by now, have taken root and begun blooming. The boxes are full and lush and beautiful. But sometimes I wonder: Will I be able to keep up the pace of watering and tending to make sure it continues?
Some days I am doubtful.
It’s been seven years since I came to be the pastor of Calvary Baptist Church. One of the main reasons I came was what seemed like all the potential oozing out of every corner of this place. The congregation had a vision; they believed in gospel community; they were committed to the process of building something new. And, with the help of God’s Spirit, they did. The sanctuary looks distinctly different now than it did back then, with signs of life everywhere you turn and rich textures and patterns of the family of God draped all over. It’s beautiful!
But I’ve been thinking lately that perhaps the hard work of planting life in this place was just the beginning of our task here at Calvary.
Now I can feel very intensely its need for careful tending. In other words, to keep it looking beautiful around here, we must now commit ourselves to the day-in-and-day-out task of listening to each other, caring for one another, extending forgiveness and grace in lavish excess and — most of all — disciplining ourselves to respond to the leadership of God’s Spirit. These tasks require commitment and persistence and faith; they are not one-time efforts that result in exciting newness, but rather ongoing investment that ensures life and health and future. And sometimes I wonder: Will we be able to keep up the pace of careful tending to make sure it continues?
I confess that some days I am doubtful.
So today I’ll pray again that God’s Spirit would come and renew our resolve, keep us faithful to the task at hand and give us courage to continue. If we can manage that, I can only imagine the beautiful creation that may someday bloom in this place.