Weeds will find their way to develop roots in the least likely of places. They tend to pop up exactly where you think the ground cover is best, or between bits of cement that nearly seal. They find a way to propagate and expand even in the arid, and the space with no goodness. Especially in the space with no goodness. Especially in soil that is not busy growing something. Especially when you think you got that particular weed licked.

There are some deep weeds in my garden this spring. These weeds are sharp, and they have thick roots that pull up all sorts of dirt when they come up. I am forced to pull hard, to dig deep to get them out. Sometimes I only get the top off, and I know it will come back bigger and stronger, and its leaves will help it to spread. Left unchecked they will choke out everything else. Left unchecked they will take over. My soul is struggling with the same thing.

In seasons when cultivation is neglected the weeds choke out. The plants stagnate. The bottoms of the tomatoes rot. The pumpkins only flower…I learned last year when I over planted, when there was just too much going on, that the soil could produce nothing that provided sustenance to another…no real fruit. 

For me soul cultivation means I must slow at this table. I must indulge in the sometimes painful act of scrawling words to explore the depths. It is my souls tiller. It helps to pull at the roots of my choking pride. That which is buried deep and all tangled around what seem like good intentions. It helps me to notice, the sharpness of the leaves of unlove, the thorns that poke those around me as they dare to stand close. The yellowed flowers of impatience and selfishness, they stain. There is dirt under my nails, as I tend the soil and rough it up a bit, mix the dead bits in with the growing, use the nutrients of my own death to grow something that looks like fruits of His Spirit. 

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