Buried.

I have to be really careful about the things I wish for in front of my husband. I mean, like, really careful. Because once I say it, he does his best to make it happen. He's like a genie except without the outfit. Or the bottle. Or the smoke legs.
Once in our previous house I was standing in the laundry room folding clothes. He came out and I said nonchalantly as I bent over to get more socks, "I wish this window was bigger in here. It would let in so much more air and light." Three days later I came home from work and guess what?

Yep.
A breeze.
Seriously.

It's not just windows.
Me: OOOhhh I should get a food processor so I can make my own veggie burgers!
Guess who has a food processor? Yep.
Guess how many veggie burgers I have made?
Loser.

Me in an antique store with Jeff: Oh. My. Gosh. Look at these old typewriters! I love them! Coolest thing I have ever seen!
Guess who has an antique typewriter with the sweetest note typed in it given on our anniversary?
And an information book on how it works that was ordered through amazon? Along with black and red ink?
Yep.
Me.

Seriously.

So I should have known better when I said, "Oh we should plant a garden! We have all this space and ...blah ...so many veggies and ...blah ... save us money and... blah..."
Guess who has a garden?
Uh huh.
Guess how big it is?
I could feed a small country.

He's kind of an overachiever. God bless him.

I woke up this morning knowing it was going to be a weeding kind of morning. Before the sun gets too hot, before I watch too much Pretty Little Liars.
As I walked out there and surveyed the garden, or "The Amazon" as I now refer to it, I felt more than a little overwhelmed. I took a picture of it and posted to my facebook (because you know I love facebook!)
and it allowed me to procrastinate for three more minutes.
I'm grateful that I did though because a wonderful writer friend of mine, who loves all things beautiful, commented and said, "I do some of my best praying in my garden. Have at it!"


Two weeks ago I started a study on secrets. I wasn't sure why I felt so pulled to go because even though I admire the speaker, the study topic made my stomach roll.
I don't like secrets.
Period.

The class meets on Wednesday nights and each time I have left I have been on-my-knees grateful I showed up. I mean, I'm not saying me and secrets are cool and I'm going to ask them to stay and party but I am gaining some insight on the control they can have and that I am able to say, hasta la vista.

baby.

Last week we spoke about the vault.
I bet you can guess the question of the night.
What's in vault number ONE? Two?

Three?
Ten?

I mean, basically my vault looks like a crime scene.
Yellow tape.(caution. cautioncautioncaution) everywhere. Little red flags in the ground marking where all my bad things are buried. I'm pretty sure if I look closely, I may see a body.
I'm pretty sure it's a little girl.
Her eyes are closed. Her feet are bare. She is cold. She looks dead.
But she's not.
I'm pretty sure she's pretending to be dead so nothing will actually kill her.

Opening my vault almost causes a panic attack in my garden amongst the corn that towers over me and shields my face. As I move through vines and cut them back
prune
prune
prune

I can hear the Lord trying to talk to me. I can. I know He is trying to say something but I can't make it out. I can't make it out because I am screaming inside myself ...
WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO KNOW? What do you want me to see in this stupid, stupid, vault?!

What?
What?
WHAT?

But he can't answer me like that. God doesn't scream.

He waits.

Until I was quiet. Until it was just me, cutting vines,
prune
prune
prune.

Just me

and dirt,

and vines,

and

quiet.

My fingers are a mess. Scratched. Wet dirt under my nails. Sweat dripping into my eyes. I can hear the bees. I am hoping corn spiders don't drop on my neck and crawl on me. I will freak out if they do.

I prune.

This garden.
It's so overgrown. everything living on top of everything. haphazard. zigzagged. twisted.
this is what happens when you leave it.
this is what happens when you leave it alone.
it grows wild.
without direction.
without focus.

And I can't see any fruit. I can't see any vegetable. I can't see anything. It's buried. Deep.

Under the vines.

What God?
What?

Shut. Up. My daughter.

shhhhhhhh ....

And i continued.
Removing the excess. Throwing it behind me.

and then there it was.
beautiful. green. attached to the vine.
growing.


And finally, finally, I heard Him.

Look.
Look how perfect it grows.
Even here.
In the dark.

And right there. On my knees, in the dirt, with dirt on my face, and bugs crawling over my fingers...
I began to cry.



And i couldn't stop.



I stayed there. Until the pain was gone.

And the peace settled in.