Spring has been dragging her feet this year, but she has finally made it to our little farm. Seeds that were started in the cold frame have nudged their way through warm dirt and burst forth in verdigris.
It soothes my spirit to come home each day, open the frame or walk through the vegetable garden, and marvel at how many sprouts have made their way into the sunlight–all filled with promise, all filled with life. Little arms stretched toward the sky in gratitude of Creation.
But with this miracle comes the hardest gardening task: Thinning.
My least favorite step of the process, thinning requires pulling random or smaller sprouts so others might live, grow, and produce . There have been years that I refused to thin and thought I’d wait and see what happened. Those seasons, I harvested little food as most of the sprouts choked each other as they competed for nutrients and space.
Sometimes in life, we feel the frustrations, anger or bitterness mounting. We hold onto those feelings because we believe that’s how we resolve issues–grabbing on instead of letting go. We let negative memories or situations choke out new opportunities for growth. Possibility withers, and we are left stunted by our own unwillingness to surrender.
As I prepared myself for the task of thinning this past week, I sat in the dirt staring at those little sprouts. I pulled a few then sprinkled them around those remaining in the ground. I gave thanks for the space they were making for new life to grow.