As the temperatures are cooling, and the threat of frost increases, I’ve been slowly transitioning my little garden pots. The peas and beans came out last week, and this week my sights were set on the chard. (I’m holding out hope for the squash to keep growing!)
This week, assessing the chard, I noticed a spot of colour that didn’t quite belong. On closer inspection, it turns out I do have some very keen and determined carrots trying to grow. I was seeing their little orangey-brown tops starting to pop through the soil, desperate for some sunshine.
It got me thinking about the act of growing carrots. We drop a few seeds in, and nature does its thing under the soil beyond our sight, and some time later we rip those roots out of the earth and enjoy them.
Carrots are both rooted and grounded; they have the root tendrils that reach through the varying layers of soil, transporting nutrients and water to the root vegetable, thus enabling growth. And they are grounded, as their development takes place within a sturdy environment, the flexible greens being the only thing above the soil until the plant is ready to emerge into our sight. Even then, carrots can be quite solidly situated within that soil.
As our mid-week worship heard the lesson this week from Ephesians 3.17 (…that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love) I pondered about those carrots. Rooted, grounded, and emerging at their own pace. We too, through our faith, find ourself rooted (receiving the nourishment of Christ) and grounded (with a firm foundation of faith).
And, like those hiding little carrots, we too emerge into the world to live the life of those who are beloved; who have been blessed and can be a blessing.
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