Compost

I recently began composting after reading about the many beneficial nutrients that it adds to the soil. Not having a bin, I started small by saving eggshells and coffee grounds in a covered bowl on the kitchen counter. My hope was to eventually invest in a good receptacle. So, as I rounded the corner on my morning walk the other day, I was elated to find a compost bin on the sidewalk with a "free" sign on it. (Thanks, Lord!) Better still, the neighbor who was discarding it emerged and allowed me to move it into her driveway, so that I could continue my walk without fear of it being adopted by someone else.

After I'd planted the container in our yard, I headed online to research exactly how this whole composting thing works. I sometimes wonder if those who write about gardening make a conscious effort to complicate even simple processes; to convince us novices that we are inept to grow so much as a tomato. But, I figure that if my ancestors managed to feed themselves without advanced degrees in agriculture, botany, or horticulture, I can figure out how to layer food scraps and yard debris to make compost. I will keep you posted.

What I've learned so far is that successful composting requires the right mixture of ingredients coupled with the correct temperature, sufficient moisture, and oxygen. It's all scientific. I plan to throw in compostable things, stir them up and hope for the best. I've heard from others that they have been successful with that formula. Like I said, I will keep you posted.

After I got to thinking about the whole concept of compost (how all those scraps mixed together in the right way creates "black gold" coveted by gardeners for what it adds to the soil),
I thought again about how the natural reflects the spiritual. Doesn't God take all of the by- products of our life and mix them together so that "all things work together for the good of us who love Him and are called according to His purpose"? And doesn't He know just how much of each ingredient we need? Doesn't He allow us to be formed in the heat of the furnace, and then rain on us to refresh us? Doesn't He breathe new life into us again and again? And doesn't He know just how much time it takes until the process is complete? I am so grateful that I don't have to understand His formula. Rather, I just have to give Him all of me (past, present, and future) and allow Him to do His work.

Vacuum

In a nation that celebrates mavericks and hedonism, we often fail to remember that we do not live independently of each other. As such, one's personal life may not be so personal. The words of John Donne remind us that life is not lived out in a vacuum. He stated that, "No man is an island, entire of itself every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less..."

Over the weekend my hubby and I had the opportunity to attend a local production of the Arthur Miller play, "Death of a Salesman." It was my first time seeing this work and the theater company executed it beautifully. In the play, adolescent Biff Loman is derailed upon discovering that his father, whom he idolized, is having an affair with another woman. This revelation comes late in the second act. In the initial act, we'd become fairly well acquainted with Biff the young man, who has lost his way. This new information helps us finally understand that the consequences of his father's actions have left deep scars in Biff; accounting for the restless man that he has become.

As unpopular as it is, our actions are not remote. They have consequences that extend beyond ourselves effecting countless others in unforeseen ways. As such, we are very much our brothers' keeper. I pray that my life is a source of encouragement to my fellow travelers, rather than a stumbling block.