Lessons from the Garden Row (with dirt under my nails and grace in my heart)
Every spring, I dig my fingers into the dirt and tell myself, “This is the year.”
- I’ll remember to label the seedlings.
- I won’t lose the pruners halfway through July.
- I’ll harvest everything before it turns into compost-on-the-vine.
And every year… well, God humbles me with zucchini the size of baseball bats and tomato plants that grow more sideways than up. But somewhere in the middle of all that messy, glorious growth, I always find Him—hidden in the rows, in the weeds, in the waiting.
These are the lessons from the garden I didn’t know I needed—taught by dirt, delay, and unexpected abundance.
Let me tell you what the garden’s been teaching me this season
“Sow What?”
It all begins with a seed.
There’s something holy about starting from scratch. I press those tiny seeds into little pots of soil and whisper a prayer over them, even though they look like nothing more than flecks of dust. Every spring, it feels like I’m planting hope itself—These quiet beginnings always remind me that some of the most powerful lessons from the garden start small and unseen—just like faith.
Sometimes I wonder if that’s how God sees us—just little specks with potential. No fruit yet. No sign of life on the surface. But in His hands? We’re becoming something beautiful.
Practical Tip: Start seeds indoors 6–8 weeks before your last frost. Egg cartons or yogurt cups work great—just don’t forget to label them. All seedlings look the same at 6 a.m. in March.
When Weeds Take Over
About a month into summer, I always hit what I call “The Weed Wall.” You know the one—when the garden looks more like a jungle and less like a well-curated Pinterest dream.
One year, I turned my back for a single weekend. By Monday, the thistles had grown tall enough to qualify as shade trees.
It’s the same with life, isn’t it? Weeds sneak in—busyness, doubt, resentment, comparison—and before we know it, they’re choking the joy right out of us. One of the clearest lessons from the garden is that growth and grace require maintenance.
But grace? Grace says you can get back out there with your gloves and start pulling. It’s never too late to make room for growth again.
A pleasant surprise
And sometimes—sometimes—you come home and find that someone else has done the weeding for you.
This summer, I spent a week away serving at camp, and honestly, I left with a bit of guilt over the state of the garden. It had been sorely neglected. I expected to return to chaos.
But when I came home, I was stunned. The weeds were gone. The rows were tidy. The whole garden looked like something out of a magazine (or at least our version of one).
Turns out, my husband and the two kids who stayed home—Joey and Shiannah—had quietly spent the week working away in the garden, catching up on everything I hadn’t gotten around to. They saw the mess, rolled up their sleeves, and blessed me with a gift I hadn’t asked for but deeply needed.
Sometimes grace looks like weeded rows and unexpected help.
Practical Tip: Lay down mulch early—grass clippings, wood chips, or even shredded newspaper. It helps retain moisture and suppress weeds, which means more time enjoying your garden… and less time fighting it.
Waiting on the Fruit
Tomatoes are my favourite thing to grow—and my least favourite thing to wait for.
All summer long, I hover over them like an over-invested parent at a soccer game. I talk to them, coax them, check them daily like they might suddenly decide to ripen out of politeness.
But they never hurry.
It turns out, good fruit takes time. The same goes for our kids, our character, our healing, and all the prayers we keep lifting but haven’t seen answered yet. Just because we can’t see the change doesn’t mean it isn’t happening underground.
Practical Tip: Tomatoes thrive in full sun and well-drained soil. Pinch off the “suckers” (little shoots between the main stem and branches) to help the plant focus on fruit—not just foliage. Sometimes, less really is more.
Pruning Hurts (But It Helps)– Lessons from the Garden on Letting Go
One morning I was out pinching off the suckers on the tomato plants—cutting off the shoots that had grown quite large—when one of my kids asked, “Why are you getting rid of the good ones?”
It’s a fair question. On the surface, pruning looks like loss. But it’s actually an invitation for more. More blossoms, fruit, and more focus.
And sometimes, God does that in our lives too. He removes things that look good—plans, comforts, even people—not to hurt us, but to make room for deeper growth.
Practical Tip: Regularly deadhead flowering plants like zinnias and marigolds to encourage fresh blooms. And trust the Gardener who’s gently pruning your own heart.
When the Bugs Show Up
I still remember the year potato bugs took out every last potato plant. The kids were scandalized. I was bitter. The bugs were smug and well-fed.
Gardening, like life, comes with pests. Whether it’s literal bugs or unexpected trials, they’re inevitable. But not fatal.
Even when our efforts are chewed up and spit out, God is still at work. Sometimes He teaches us resilience. Sometimes He teaches us to let go and try again next season.
Practical Tip: Sprinkle diatomaceous earth around the base of plants or use lightweight row covers to deter bugs. And don’t stress too much. Even the most seasoned gardeners lose battles now and then.
Deep Water, Strong Roots
When life gets busy, I start “splash watering”—a little here, a little there. Just enough to get by.
But shallow watering only encourages shallow roots.
Our souls need deep nourishment too. Not a rushed Bible verse while making toast. Not a quick prayer between loads of laundry. But real, rich, soul-soaking time with the One who makes all things grow.
Practical Tip: Water early in the morning at the base of the plant to prevent mildew. One or two deep waterings a week is better than daily sprinkles.
God Walks in Gardens– Finding God Through Lessons from the Garden
There’s something about a garden that quiets the noise.
Maybe that’s why God chose a garden as the place to walk with Adam and Eve. Maybe that’s why I find myself praying while pulling weeds or singing hymns while harvesting beans. The garden doesn’t just feed us—it reminds us who we are: beloved, becoming, growing.
Even if the zucchini takes over, the cucumbers bolt. Even if you accidentally grow 37 spaghetti squash.
There is grace here. And it grows best in dirt.
Final Thoughts– Holding Onto the Lessons from the Garden (and Grace)
So friend, if your garden is late, your kids are muddy, and your tomatoes are still green—take heart. You’re doing holy work, even if it doesn’t look impressive on Instagram.
Keep sowing and weeding. Keep watching for fruit. And keep your heart open to the quiet lessons from the garden—they’re often where grace grows best.
“And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”
— Galatians 6:9
Have you found grace in your garden this year? Share your story in the comments or pass this on to a friend who needs some soul-soaking encouragement today.
Fantastic encouragement! Thanks.