It is the season of Summer, and we are caught up in the prospect of growing a garden in our backyard. The current season reminds me of past seasons. Autumn produced generous falling leaves (thank you trees) that were subsequently raked into piles and burned in the Spring (sorry lungs).
Now, in our backyard we not only had our own new leaf piles, but we also inherited the grand daddy of all leaf burning spots. Scarred, charred, barren, dead. So we “piled” on our contribution to the legacy of the yard.
This pile plot has been around for years if not decades. It probably started out small – the leaves from the Fall. But with time and neglect it grew in both size and degree. Eventually, small branches and minor bits of trash were added. Then chunks of broken doors, windows, and tools. Soon, things that won’t even burn found themselves placed there – broken glass, wire cables, aluminum cans. If it wasn’t fit or convenient for use, it ended up on the old “leaf” pile.
So as we began to clean up our yard, we joined in the cycle of life of the leaf pile. The flame was kindled, and years of cast-offs were slowly consumed. But even with diligent tending remnants still remained.
Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that the items on the leaf pile weren’t destroyed but rather transformed. As I sift through the ashes there are still discernable pieces of screen mesh, a mostly-buried cable, charred glass, and a hundred other forgotten memories.
Memories of a past filled with as many failed attempts that bring a chuckle as buried regrets that still hold the power to burden our minds and sink our hearts. Why won’t these things die? Why can’t we get rid of them for good?
The principle matter is one of perspective. The present leaf pile can either be reminiscent of a dark (yet ever present) past, or it can be viewed as an opportunity for a brightened future and a new reality. The most applicable word is: redemption.
To redeem something is to ransom it out of a current prison or identity resulting from a past event into a different and better future. To free the present from the prison of the past. It is to bring life out of death.
And that’s where the idea of the pumpkin patch came from. Why not take this generations-old patch of refuse, and transform it into a fruitful pumpkin patch? So with the knowledge that ashes can be used as good fertilizer for healthy growing, we set out on our mission of redemption.
As the tiller churns through layer upon layer of the past, forgotten details begin to surface. Old becomes new again, and perspective dictates response. The broken glass bottle can drag one back to that moment of haunting regret or be seen in contrast with the future that is purposed to be. Does it remain or is it to be removed?
In the light of redemption this old footprint of the past becomes a step forward, gaining ground towards a new purpose.
And now as our hands work the freshly turned soil more new things materialize. Every rock removed is a reclaimed place for the root of life to grow. The workable plot now begins to take on the pattern of the purpose that is being brought to it.
I see a seed pile will go here and … here. A boundary will mark the edges like this. It looks like there’s room for two pumpkin vines. Vision and perception begin to merge. With time and tending of the new purpose, this old ground will blossom with the fruit of redemption!
This attempted allegory of the pumpkin patch, I hope, registers with you. The old, inherited leaf piles are present in the backyards of all of our lives. Sin (original and personal), mistakes, regrets, and hurts litter our memories and souls. Hidden from the passersby out front, but ever-hindering our true enjoyment of life. I pray that God will come into our past-filled present and redeem our barren places with His new purpose and abundant fruitfulness.
[Addendum: External forces are compliant (and even assistive) with the old purposes of the leaf pile – rot, barrenness, ruin. Beware of these forces and ward them off with diligence. As you plant the seeds of redemption, birds may swoop in and “devour them”. Weeds will arise to “choke out” any new life (see Matthew 13). And time is required to see this new fruit, but the waiting is no longer filled with reminiscent regret but expectant hope.]
