As I sat down to write this morning, I realized that “hope” has become a consistent theme through my blog. I’ve reflected on new flowers peeking out from bulbs buried in winter snow, tiny hostas surviving a late May freeze, and long lost plants hidden in dark laundry rooms. As I read through each one, I decided to repost this meditation this morning. Hope not only brings us light out of the darkness, it also encourages us to share the light with others as well. ~cameron
Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does. ~William James
How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world. ~Anne Frank
I realized last night that I’ve been giving a lot of press to the Japanese beetles lately, both literally and figuratively. They have distracted me from some of the good parts of my garden and overwhelmed me with their destructive ways. I walk out on the farm each night and start looking for them on the grape vines the work my way down to the apricot trees. My eyes form small slits as I glare at at the creatures, and I start flicking them off the leaves.
Last night, however, while my gaze traveled the top bar of the grape trellis, a small glimmer of red caught my eye. A ladybug! She perched there amidst the tattered and shredded leaves like a small gift. Methodically, she worked her way across one leaf, no doubt eating whatever miniscule creatures she could find and potentially saving 2 square inches of yards and yards of grape vine.
No matter. In that small space, she accomplished her task, not caring if the beetles had ravaged leaf after leaf or worrying that darkness would fall soon and her task wouldn’t be done.
I sit here this morning and reflect on that ladybug. She continues to go about her business, taking care of what is around her. Her size and solitude not stopping her from making a difference for that one leaf in that moment in time. But square inch after square inch and plant after plant, she and others like her save parts of my garden.
Sometimes, when the darkness comes or the Japanese beetles descend, we feel small and alone in what we do in this world, and we wonder if we are making a difference. We look around in our 2 square inches and question, is this enough?
Well, if you glance around the garden, you’ll see other ladybugs tending to their two square inches–some may be down in the squash patch, others may be up on the lilies. And what seems like worlds away from each other, they are giving a vegetable or a leaf a little hope for protection and life–making a difference for one being in that two square inches.
So, this morning as I pray for for a world that often seems filled with issues bigger than one me can address–poverty, violence, hunger, isolation–I keep that ladybug tucked in my spirit, remembering that when I walk out my door this morning, I step into my two square inches of life’s garden, and what I do will make a difference.