What seeds for the future are you planting this spring? Have you tended and tilled your soil?

In the church, we hear the Lenten call to reflect, repent, and prepare for Easter.  In nature, there is a similar invitation.

Ecclesiastes 3 reminds us of the ancient spiritual wisdom in paying attention to cycles of nature — of the earth, of laughter and sorrow, of keeping and throwing away. Our spiritual, physical, and emotional energy is cyclical also. We need to remember the wisdom of energies rising and falling and rising again. The idea that our lives echo the eternal cycle of the seasons does not deny the struggle or the joy, the loss or the gain, the darkness or the light. Rather, we are encouraged to embrace it all— and to find, in all seasons, opportunities for insight, growth, and renewal. 

If we do not learn to practice aligning ourselves with the cyclical nature of the natural world, we may enter a dry spell, hit a cold snap, or experience a fallow time — all the while supposing that our willpower (or our God) has failed us. We may panic or despair because it seems there is no inspiration, expansion, or fruitfulness. But in reality, we are not designed to bear fruit all year long. 

What then are spiritual practices for Spring (and Lent)? I suggest two:

1.  Till and tend your compost. Early spring is a season to focus on your soil. Humus is the Latin word for “earth” or “ground.” Further, science refers specifically to the organic plant and animal decomposition matter in soil as humus. Although it’s deteriorating and seemingly dead or useless, the humus matter in soil is actually extremely rich in nutrients and helps retain moisture for the soil. Interestingly, the word humus is also from the same Latin root as humility. It makes sense then that it can be humbling to till the soil in springtime, in part because the source of any compost is waste products. But waste products — from our messes, failures, scraps, scars — are composted by the divine gardener and transformed into amazing fertilizer for the seeds we plant. 

   Often it is the things we most want to forget and wish had never happened that make the best nourishment for new seedlings in our life. When we release these things and allow — permit —them to become compost in our soil, we can tend to new growth because of exactly the way the humus of our life mysteriously nurtures us. What messes or failures will you release this spring into the care of the divine gardener?

2. Scatter seeds with both intention and abandon. Spring is a season to plant seeds for harvesting later. We can plant one or two seeds and tend them faithfully. It’s always good practice to give attention to what we have planted, mindfully set realistic and measurable goals, and have a plan in-place for accountability. 

   Yet Jesus also teaches: “The Kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how.” (Mark 4:26-27)

   Not every seed we scatter will produce fruit. And we cannot know in advance whether new endeavors, different practices, or fresh approaches will sprout and grow. We also cannot know immediately.  Growth takes time and often happens in mystifying ways. This is the miraculous gift of entrusting our lives to a larger force of love, goodness, and grace. Where are you called to plant carefully—with intention?  Where are you called to scatter seeds with wild abandon— not knowing, yet trusting?

This spring, take time to tend and till your humus, releasing past sorrows, regrets, fears, hurts, disappointments, and more so they can be used for compost in all God is growing in and through you in this season. Have the courage to be vulnerable as you sow seeds for a future harvest. 

“What is this faithful process of spirit and seed
that touches empty ground and makes it rich again?
It’s greater workings I cannot claim to understand.
I only know that in its care, what has seemed dead is
dead no longer, what has seemed lost, is no longer lost,
that which some have claimed impossible, is made clearly possible,
and what ground is fallow is only resting—
resting and waiting for the blessed seed to arrive on the wind with all Godspeed. 
And it will.”  
—Clarissa Pinkola Estes, The Faithful Gardener