When I read the last item on my vacation prep list: “Spray the roses before you go,” I looked outside and said to myself, “Oh, we’re past Japanese beetle season, they’ll be ok for a week.” Then we drove off and had a marvelous time away, enjoying ocean breezes, playing board games, visiting family. When I returned to the home place, I was relieved. Everything seemed to be as I left it: the buildings were still standing and the humans and canines had survived. The grass was tall enough to hide small deer, but that could be fixed. So far, so good. But then I wandered into the back yard and– WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO THE ROSES? Well, I actually knew what had happened, but how had it happened so fast? Black spot fungus was everywhere; you could practically see spore specters rising from the mulch!
And then, there were the bugs, the spent blooms– the bewildering host of weeds that even an Appalachian naturalist couldn’t love. Vines covered my newest rose bush and I panicked: was it even alive under that mess? I remembered the Mississippi neighbor who told me, “Roses are a lot of work.” She hadn’t warned me about the riotous rains of July and the havoc they’d wreak in my garden. Well, the damage was done now. Best get to work.
The dogs watched as I made trips from garage to yard, hauling sprayer, trimmers, gloves, bucket, rake, sunhat and water bottle. A curious son wandered by to inquire where the fire was. Mutely, I handed him a rose leaf. This was serious. He didn’t look all that alarmed, but good naturedly, he began to rake and haul away infected mulch. Meanwhile, I sprayed and weeded. I removed the insidious viney devil that was smothering my Lichfield Angel, which was alive after all. I removed the quadrillion dead heads on the other plants. After I was done for the day, I took stock. The roses were alive, but they were struggling to stay that way because of my neglect, and this made me wonder what else I had been neglecting, so I looked around. There were household projects I’d put off for months; the front porch was cluttered; the windows needed washing; the garage should be better organized. Frankly, I’d rather muck out a horse stall than squeegee the kitchen windows, and it shows. But the rose garden became a cautionary tale: neglect it and lose it.
Neglecting a flower garden, neglecting housework, though regrettable, does not devastate my soul. After all, life and energy are limited and I can’t focus on everything. Instead, I have to choose activities that are life-giving, and for me, that means singling out, as closely as I can, the things God has designed me to do. Just as a forgotten rose bed will be consumed by disease, so forgetting the Master Gardener will result in a wasted life.
Jesus had this to say about the matter: “I am the vine, you are the branches; the one who remains in Me, and I in him bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing.” John 15:5
