Having been stripped of my ingenious Plan B, in addition to being utterly disillusioned by my new found identity of the Great Weed Exterminator I feel like I am losing ground and slipping fast from discouragement into Despair. Capital D Despair. I have nothing left. I am doomed forever.
In the back of my mind, a tiny bee starts buzzing… I am annoyed and would much rather be left alone to rot. But the bee doesn’t leave me alone. In between the annoying buzzings, I think I hear something along the lines of despair being a compost pile for real growth.
The counter-intuitive nature of the statement gets me quite distracted from my doom-n-gloom. I latch on it like a nursing infant.
Despair is the compost pile for real growth… Despair… is a compost pile… for real… growth…
There is no question that my life resembles a big, stinky compost pile, indeed. And, there sure is a lot of despair. But, real growth? Do I even know what this 'real growth' thing is all about…?
I realize I need a serious miracle. And the only One I know qualified in this department is… God.
OMG! I am such a loser! I need God to weed my garden! How pathetic is that? HOW pathetic is THAT!
Pathetic or not, I have nowhere else to turn. So, I slump down on my knees and utter the most sincere prayer I’ve said in a very long time:
Ah, LORD God, You who created this amazing world out of nothing, You who give life to the dead, make me a gardener.
Just like that.
When you are at the bottom, the only way to look is up.
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