something damaged, something that survives

The dogs determined to gain entry to the vegetable garden.  Dragged out the extra roll of weed-blocker and decorated the yard in bits of black plastic.  Bless them. The gentle deer we love to watch, thrilled at the wide-open invitation, feasted overnight on the mammoth leaves of prolific zucchini (the only thing I grow really well--sorry, kids) and the wild tomato vines that never did get caged.  They even chomped all the little leaves off the green bean plants Sammy and I planted from seed.

The kids were sent off to soccer camp this week, along with the husband, and in the packing and shipping process – because of my dedication to using this time for writing and not cleaning – not one shoe or bag or non-perishable food item has found its way home.  All is on floor or counter.

I snatch every possible minute of solitude to write write write; thus the piano room is littered with papers and headphones and pens and moldy coffee cups.  No company coming in this week, thank goodness.

Forested mountains are burning in Colorado.  Human beings born perfectly healthy are destroyed by poverty and abuse and sin, and I’m tempted to see the world as one big chaotic mess.  A lovely idea, Lord - just not working out.  Beauty and goodness are dragged across the lawn in shreds.

But I looked again, and I saw daisies abloom in my messy yard!  Lots and lots of them huddled in happy mass.

I saw color on the cheeks of happy kids.

I saw that we’d eaten well, really well, this week, filled to the brim with the fruit of local farms. (Thanks, Go Local Produce!)

I opened Garageband and heard good, strong melodies born just yesterday.  Yay!!!

And, surprise!  Cute little tiny baby green tomatoes surviving the stampede.  Hello, tiny little green tomatoes!

All is not lost.  Rain will come.  The gate will be fixed.  We will keep sowing and planting and going out to harvest the Good and the Beautiful and the True.



What do you see?  Something damaged…something that survives?