I love it when I read a new book and the author puts to words what my soul has not been able to. And I underline and underline, quote after quote with my pen. If the words really move me, then I write them down in my journal so I won’t forget.
Singer, songwriter and author, Andrew Peterson writes, “Are we meant to live so much of our lives in automobiles? Are we meant to mainly consume food that was grown or processed a thousand miles away? Are we meant to only experience the wonder of creation in a national park, once a year, after a four-hour drive on holiday, or could we experience it on a walk after lunch thanks to the discovery of a field of wild violets? Are we meant to spend more time in the bonus room with the flat-screen than the front garden?” (pg. 167, The God of the Garden)
I knew nothing about gardening until I was close to 40 years old. Weary of a particular stretch of sod that never took off or grew in our front yard, an idea struck me. Cut out the area and plant a flower garden.
So during spring break of 2001, I spent every day digging up brown colored sod, replacing it with fresh ground soil and planting a Crepe Myrtle in the back center, surrounded by a few bushes, annuals and perennials.
Some folks stray away from gardening because of the work, plus they don’t want to get their hands dirty, which reminds me when I was a camp counselor in the Blue Ridge mountains of North Carolina during the summer of 1983. One night, after our cabin of eight, 12-15 year-old boys finished a long hike, I started a campfire and then boiled water so we could eat rice and beans for supper. Anything tastes good in the great outdoors, especially when you are exhausted.
When I began pouring rice in one of the boy’s cups he said, “I can’t eat this, because there is dirt at the bottom of my cup.” I kept pouring and a fellow camp counselor said, “God made the dirt so it won’t hurt.” Then a few campers chimed in with a chant-like manner, repeating the same phrase over and over. And as I remember that crazy expression, after all these years, there is some truth in it. Peterson continues:
“A teaspoon of garden soil contains hundreds of millions of microbes, which means that gardeners tend to have a wider variety of gut bacteria. One of those is called mycobacterium vaccae which, when it gets under your fingernails, releases serotonin in your system. Serotonin is a natural anti-depressant that also happens to strengthen our immune systems. According to Sue Stuart-Smith, in her book The Well Gardened Mind, our bodies experience healing merely being near the color green, and “nature’s restorative effects on the cardiovascular system are demonstrable in the body within a few minutes.” It’s crazy, but it’s almost like God knew what he was doing when he made humans to be gardeners in the first place.” (pg. 118)
Wow! His quote makes me also remember the times my wife would come on the front porch and say. “Supper is ready!” I’d go inside after spending hours in our garden, and she would also say, “You smell! Before you can come to the dinner table, you at least need to wash your hands and get that dirt out from under your fingernails. Have you considered cutting your nails as it will also remove the dirt.”
But now, after reading Peterson’s book, maybe I should have let that dirt sink into my flesh a little longer. Because life is long and life is hard. Even dirt can serve as a pick-me-up along life’s muddy journeys. As I wrote in my memoir, No Hugs Allowed:
“One mid-September morning in 2011, a revelation hit me while watering perennials and annuals in our front yard garden. I love gardening and seeing the results of hard work. When down and out, the beauty of the blooms always takes away the sadness and gloom I feel. As I stared at a group of violet petunias, a voice said: “Write a book about the journey with your Father to help other people.” (pg. 180)
Yeah, I do a lot of thinking while I garden, water, pull weeds, put down fertilizer and deadhead plants and shrubs like Hydrangeas. Another form of natural therapy that God provides to you and me just like exercise, hard work and a good night’s sleep.
At the conclusion of The God of the Garden, in the Afterword, Peterson sends us off with an action plan–if you will:
“No matter what you do for a living, find a way to get your hands dirty. Most of us have access to a few square feet of dirt. Learn to grow something. Gardening is an embodiment of hope. You may think of it as a hobby for old people and tree huggers, but that’s just not true. In a literal sense, it’s at the core of what we were made to do and to be. If, like me, you struggle with some measure of depression or melancholia, I’m convinced that it’s good medicine. (pg. 198)
So don’t wash your hands. Let that God-created dirt sink in. And remember, “God made the dirt, so it won’t hurt.”
Pictures courtesy of “Nelson & his Nikon”