I Murdered My Wife's Garden

She wasn't even mad.

We were in the direct line of Hurricane Helene last week, a new experience for me, and our power was out for days. Other than a little water damage upstairs in Jonathon’s study and a flattened flower garden, we came through unscathed. It was in the process of calling it quits on my cut flower garden and mowing down what was left of the flowers in preparation for next year, a writing prompt struck Jonathon and he offered to write a guest post for me on the spot. What follows are Jonathon’s thoughts on the frailty of flowers and human life alike.—Amanda

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It was the end of the season, and time, bugs, and Helene had taken their toll. Many beautiful bouquets grew here, bouquets which graced our home, and our friends and neighbors’ homes.

They came from dust, and the time had come for them to return to dust again.

We pulled out the supports and the irrigation, and I fired up the mower and mowed it down to the ground.

I’d had nowhere near the sweat equity in this garden that Amanda had. Hers was significant. So significant, it seemed at times herculean to me. (She is REALLY motivated by flowers.)

But that wasn’t why mowing it down brought so many mixed thoughts and feelings to mind. She had a sound plan, after all, and this was a necessary part of it, to mulch it all down and layer it up for next year.

While not to be idolized, there is something divine in beauty, especially the kind that appears in nature. It is, after all, God’s handiwork.

Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither labor nor spin; but I tell you, not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these.
(Luke 12:27)

So for this reason alone, it is natural to feel sorry at the loss of a flower. But there was something far worse that horrified my mind, while my mower blade whipped, chopped, and shredded the stalks and petals underneath me.

It was this: I am just about as brief and insignificant as flowers and grass. One day, I will come to an abrupt end, just as these did.

All flesh is grass, and all its loveliness is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades, When the breath of the Lord blows upon it; The people are indeed grass!
(Isaiah 40:6b-7)

Even more horrifying, it’s my fault that it is this way.

In the very beginning, God created a man and a woman, and put them in the garden of gardens—Eden. He gave them charge of it, and gave them the ability to choose to love and obey him voluntarily. They chose not to, and sinned against their creator, for no reason except that they wanted to call the shots of their own lives. And in this way, mankind became mortal, and with it, death came to everything, even flowers.

The funeral phrase, “earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust” rang in my ears over the hum of the mower.

Behold, You have made my days as handbreadths, And my lifetime as nothing in Your sight; Surely every man at his best is a mere breath. Selah.
(Psalms 39:5)

Thankfully, there was one more thought during this morbid process: an almost giddy anticipation of what was about to happen over the winter and into the next spring as a result of the grinding up of all this once-gorgeous plant matter.

We’d gotten an inkling of it already, with a bumper crop of “accidental” watermelon which happened thanks to just a modicum of composting, mulching, and God’s natural soil ecology, which teems with worms.

Despite the curse of sin, decay, and the penalty of death, God’s mercy shines through. We call it the “circle of life.” The metaphor isn’t complete without it:

For I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God.
(Job 19:25-26)

We know that without dead and dying things, it is impossible to grow anything in this earth. Stalks, roots, and yes even flowers and fruit must decay. Bodies, bones, and excrement must be swallowed up by the ground from whence they came. It’s what makes the ground fertile.

So, even though God judged man for his sin, condemning him to hard manual labor just to survive, he embedded a blessing inside of the curse. He gave man fertilizer. It humbles a man in the extreme to know that one day he himself will be fertilizer, too.

Cursed is the ground because of you; In toil you will eat of it All the days of your life. Both thorns and thistles it shall grow for you; And you will eat the plants of the field; By the sweat of your face You will eat bread, Till you return to the ground, Because from it you were taken; For you are dust, And to dust you shall return.
(Genesis 3:17b-19)

Then there are the seeds. The end product of flowers, as the flowers fade and apparently die, the seeds dry out and become dormant. Apparently lifeless, but containing within their husks the promise of new life.

Here too, man is no different. When we die, we aren’t really dead. One day we will spring forth again, in bodily form, to meet our maker, just as shoots spring up from the ground to which they fell.

Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. He who loves his life loses it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it to life eternal.
(John 12:24-25)

Some say that cleanliness is next to godliness. But I say, those who dig in the dirt are the closest to God, if they will but open their eyes and see in the soil their soul staring back at them.

From time immemorial, everywhere on the globe, whatever the culture and the language, this has been mankind’s existence. These are universally known truths, literally necessary to survival. Without Native Americans like Squanto showing them the secrets of farming, and sharing their seeds, the early European settlers might not have survived their migration to North America.

The wisest man who ever lived bids anyone who will listen:

Remember also your Creator in the days of your youth.… Remember Him before the silver cord is broken and the golden bowl is crushed, the pitcher by the well is shattered and the wheel at the cistern is crushed; then the dust will return to the earth as it was, and the spirit will return to God who gave it.
(Ecclesiastes 12:1, 6-7)

It is for these reasons that even cultures who never heard or read the Bible are nevertheless justly condemned for their sin:

For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse.…  But I say, surely they have never heard, have they? Indeed they have; “Their voice has gone out into all the earth, And their words to the ends of the world.”
(Romans 1:20, 10:18)

To farm while refusing to stare into the mirror of the soil is sinful:

A haughty look, a proud heart, And the plowing of the wicked are sin. (Proverbs 21:4)

And while God justly condemns sinners, he also offers them mercy, if they will accept it as a free gift of mercy:

But now apart from the Law the righteousness of God has been manifested, being witnessed by the Law and the Prophets, even the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all those who believe; for there is no distinction; for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, being justified as a gift by His grace through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus; whom God displayed publicly as a propitiation in His blood through faith. This was to demonstrate His righteousness, because in the forbearance of God He passed over the sins previously committed; for the demonstration, I say, of His righteousness at the present time, so that He would be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus.
(Romans 3:21-26)

It is because of grand truths like these that Christians, more than anyone else, ought to rejoice in the beauty of the world that their Redeemer has created and given them.

The very act of cultivating a garden ought to be considered an act of worship of the Creator, and ought to be done in cooperation with the ecology He created, not in contradiction to it. (How’s that for a theological argument against unsustainable farming?)

Although we still live with the presence and the effects of sin and death, we see springing forth out of it Divine Beauty, and with it, hope for the future.

This is my Father's world:
The birds their carols raise,
The morning light, the lily white,
Declare their Maker's praise.
This is my Father's world:
He shines in all that's fair;
In the rustling grass I hear Him pass,
He speaks to me everywhere.
—Rev. Maltbie Babcock

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That’s all for now. Until next time, folks…

P.S. If you enjoy reading Amanda’s stuff (and occasional contributions from me!) please consider upgrading your subscription from free to paid. This will free up more time to brainstorm topics, write about them, and record them for you to listen to on the go. It’ll also help get her two novels published. She had a reader do just that last week and considering the crazy week it was, what an encouragement! You know who you are. Thank you for the blessing. Have a great week, everyone! And may God give His blessing and safety to all of you in the path of Hurricane Milton.