In the Garden

I took these photos oh so many months ago. Here in my favorite spot for a garden, beside the Fonti, behind the old church, and overlooking the valley below, Franco works his fields. It was a beautifully sunny day, and quite warm for February when slowly, by hand, Franco turned over the soil into neat and tidy rows, all prepared and ready for rest. The weather changed a bit, right after this day some cold blasts came through causing a pause in the tilling of the plot. But that is part of the work of the gardener, to do what you can when you can, to live in the moment of the season and the weather, and to always be ready to leave time for rest.

Spring came and went, and the garden was growing fully when I left for vacation in June. It was magical to return and see the progress in the fields during the 3 weeks I was gone. The plants were nearly full grown, there were wonderful supports constructed from local bamboo built for the rows of tomatoes and bean stalks. The generosity of my friends during the summer months and the sharing of tomatoes from Franco was a treat, because in the time the garden was growing so was our friendship. With the abundance of produce he gave me, came 6 jars of tomatoes for the winter and a week’s worth of pasta sauce and Capriese. I was truly blessed by his generous spirit.

All has been harvested now as autumn is fully upon us, the ground and crops gone with the end of the season, the soil tilled yet again as it rests before the late winter tilling to prepare for spring. A few folks have some late fall crops of cabbage and such in their gardens, but Franco’s is finished. Walking by the fonti, week by week is beautiful, watching the changing of the crops as they develop, noting the end of the leafy greens, then the tomatoes, then the green beans, until ultimately it was time to till the soil again. The garden has been such a wonderful metaphor for my time on sabbatical.

St. Francis always found metaphor and meaning in nature as he cultivated a spirit of holiness that invited others to follow the rhythms of the seasons of life in their daily walk with God. It is powerful to walk in the region of St. Francis, to see the progression of the year in Umbria winter, spring, summer and fall. But more than that is to sense how St. Francis was the walking epitome of cultivating spirit, of being present in place and season to the good of the Harvest of Jesus Christ. Praying in the chapel of St. Damiano, where St. Francis experienced Jesus telling him to rebuild the church, first taking it literally and rebuilding this beautiful place of worship, then to the deeper understanding of sharing the love of God with the world, one knows we are all called to share thusly. To hear the echo of St. Francis’ words from a young man on a mountain path, “spread the Gospel daily, and when needed use words,” inspires one to act on faith with the excitement of youth. To walk the paths of Isola Magiore (the big island), where Francis spent 40 days in Lenten retreat, is to feel the isolation Jesus must have felt in the wilderness, out in the middle of Lake Trasimeno, yet feel the constant presence of the grace of God. To see the workmanship in stone of the various churches and monasteries that St. Francis took an active role in building, and driving the miles of the territory St. Francis walked or rode by animal is to sense the dedication to physical labor in the act of carrying the message forward.

While visiting Assisi, I picked up a book of the writings of St. Francis and found them to be profound, and few. There are some, including the Prayer of St. Francis that were attributed to him but did not come from his hand. But what did come from his hand, what did come from the hand of friends of his, those who knew him, AND those who were so moved by his life in Christ, is a glowing example of what St. Francis cultivated. They can be attributed to him because they came from the spirit and heart of who he was and is eternally as a person of faith.

Our lives are like a garden, it takes so much out of our control for them to grow, yet for there to be the garden there must be cultivation. There must also be the patient waiting through the elements, the attention to the changing seasons, ultimately the rejoicing and savoring of the harvest. We can all find meaning and metaphor in the beautiful world we’ve been given, we can find those who inspire, cultivate within us, the place to grow in love and care for all.

Where do you find inspiration to spiritually grow? What activities around you, such as gardening, are metaphors for your life of faith? What do you feel when you are in a garden, in sacred buildings, or in nature? Where are some of the places where you most strongly feel the presence of the Lord?