When I was little, I had a close attachment with dirt.  I loved making mud pies. I enjoyed digging for worms.  There was something about squishing your fingers through the moist soil in search of buried treasure or who knows what.  I believe I also consumed a certain amount of it during my childhood and continue to do so to this day.

In my 50s, I decided to tackle the hill in our front yard.  We’d just moved into our old “old” house a few years before and the chore of cutting the grass on a 90-degree angle with a power mower almost landed my poor hubby in the middle of the street. I’m the kind of person who likes to tackle a bad situation and try to make something better of it, so I took it upon myself, one Mother’s Day, to terrace the front yard with a spade, shovel, garden gloves and a lot of sweat.

Year after year another level appeared. I became obsessed with finding larger rocks to keep the hill from caving in. My biceps actually were visible, and muscles showed up where I never knew they existed. I added many perennials on the way down and always felt the watchful eye of my neighbors as I traversed the hill. I almost imagined them looking out their windows and holding up score signs from one to ten. If nothing else, I kept them entertained.

After 20 years the hill became self-sustaining and didn’t require a lot of work, other than the ever-present weeds that had the longest roots I’ve ever seen. Three years ago, the department of transportation began a huge construction project on the road that faces our current address. In the process, a huge retaining wall was placed between us and the road. Now their work is done, but mine is just beginning. Some of the plants have been destroyed, but every day a new flower pops up. This week has been perfect weather for getting dirty again. I started to pull deeply embedded weeds from around the good stuff. I felt a sense of accomplishment having the cooler air and sun beating down on me as I tackled the job.

Sin can be like those invasive, troublesome weeds that move into our space and take over.  They’re as tenacious as the devil himself, but we all know what happened to him.  If we let the weeds of sin go on living within us, we’ll never be happy, we’ll always feel depressed, lonely, angry or bitter.  If we sincerely repent daily of our sin, we can be sure that the Master Gardener has already paid for our transgressions.  He forgave the world once for all. His forgiveness has released us from the pangs of death and results of sin, only by what He did for everyone.