Atonement...

There was once a weed growing in the wild. I decided it needed to be moved into a container, so that it could properly adorn the outside of the tool shed I was living in at the time. But, by changing its natural state, imposing my will on it, I ended up killing the wildflower, instead of allowing it to bloom where and how it was planted. I killed a living thing that had been thriving.

Pride made me do it, as I felt I knew best how to fix that plant. I wasn't able to accept it as it was, growing as it had been called and chosen to grow. It was perfectly content as a weed, but I insisted on making it something else, something more, not for its own benefit, but only so I could brag. "Look, everyone! Look, what I accomplished! I fixed that weed!" I played God, and only proved myself to be a false gardener. In God's garden, all flowers belong, just as they are, each its own unique creation.

So, how shall I atone for my sin? Am I deserving of an easy fast? I destroyed one of God's works of art. A flower in the wild it may have been, but did I help it grow stronger? Did I raise it up when it was weak? Did I nurture it? Did I help it to heal where it had been bruised? Did I love it? Was my love authentic?

A false gardener is the worst kind of hypocrite, claiming ownership for something not one's own. It is God's garden! And the best gardeners recognize this truth.

So, how shall I atone for my sin? No, amount of fasting, on my part, will bring the flower I killed, out of pride, back to its former glory, back to life.

God had asked that I work as a gardener, and I failed. I am sorry. But, though the lesson was painful, I did learn. Now, I wish to do better.

So, how shall I atone? A gardener was I chosen to be, and a gardener I shall remain. But, I have learned the best human gardeners know how to stay out of the way. I tried to re-plant something I only saw as a weed, and I failed. Knowing better, I shall attempt in my actions to do better.

Now, I plant seeds of love. I embrace all in my path, as God made them. No longer do I desire to make wildflowers out of weeds. The compassionate heart is the new watering can. The world as it is; the new green earth. And, ever so gently, empathy has become the new farmer's almanac. Amen.