I’m feeling better with a nap. I am trying to conserve my strength so I can lead worship tomorrow however silly it is to think one can hold on to energy and disperse activity at will.
The LH wanted to get out even though he is hacking and droopy. We went to the bookstore. I looked for book on forgiveness written by an author I couldn’t remember with a title I forgot. Oddly enough, I didn’t find it. I have the author and title written on a scrap of paper in my other purse so I’ll pursue finding it.
I wanted to find a book on common Southern weeds. As Spring begins to edge into the yard, the weeds are bright green meadows in my yard grass and flower beds. I want to know each little sprouts real name, where it originated and how to get rid of it. Not that I’m splashing herbicide on a square inch of our yard. I have cat paws to protect, birds to keep safe and ground water to keep clean.
Weeds fascinate me. Are they weeds because they are free in cost and unintentional? Is our orderly gardening to value what we plant and detest any visitors? Is what we grow cultural or what is in fashion or something other than love of growth?
It’s the growing habits of weeds which fascinate me. They are so durn intrepid. A weed will grow in a sidewalk crack in the worst situations imaginable and prevail. Unless a RoundUp spraying herbicidal maniac comes by.
Stubborn, hardy, ubiquitous, vital. All weed words. We have dollar grass which I assume came up here from Mexico and further South as I saw it in Mexico. It’s roots are like long boiled pieces of spaghetti. If you pull the roots up, you get more roots. Crabgrass has wonderfully deep roots, too. Johnson grass is difficult for me to hand weed as it is stuck in the earth so tightly that it resists my pulls. I may have the names of Johnson and Crabgrass confused. See? I need a book to tell me their names. I don’t even know the colloquial names for many of the weeds I see.
I can be stubborn like a weed. Makes me think of my sermon tomorrow on John 3:1-17 where Nicodemus comes to see Jesus at night privately unable to face the public. He recognizes Jesus as a miracle worker but doesn’t know where Jesus’ authority comes from. He doesn’t know Jesus’ name as an identifier with God. Can’t imagine it but knows something is going on. I imagine that Nicodemus’ struggle with whether or not to go see Jesus was a tortured internal moment. But he goes, stubborn but curious.
Are weeds weeds? Trash plants, irritants or another way of looking at plant life? Another way to look at life by looking at the undesirable or unvalued? Is my view or our view of Jesus’ authority based on values which don’t make sense? I’m not suggesting that Jesus is a weed. That’s too funny! Perhaps I am the weed or the weed holder as in a holder of ideas which are not valuable and can be replaced with better values.
Just thinking. How’s it with you?
P.S. This isn’t my sermon but everything relates to preaching regardless by Saturday afternoon. It’s on my brain.
I’ve completed the sermon until it’s next revision about 10 pm. tonight which precedes the 8 am. tomorrow revision which precedes the 10am. revision....