Today we get to look at Chapter 14 of The Bridge from OneDayBow. I have been anxiously anticipating sharing this part! I still remember the day that it came to me. I do believe the Lord inspired it, but he used one lazy grandchild (who shall remain nameless) to add emphasis.

On one hand, the lesson is so obvious that I don’t really need to say anything, but I’m not going to let that stop me! In fact, I’m going to talk about it today and the next post, too. I think you’ll soon see why.  So, for today, I’d like to introduce you to a poem I wrote last year for a Ladies’ Retreat. The poem highlights my hatred of weeds – and in our yard we have lots of them that want to raise their ugly little heads! As much as I despise them and deplore pulling up hundreds at a time, I do it anyway. Why? Read on…

An Ode to Weeds

I have a yard that I tend. I long to make it shine

With beauty and “food” bounty, because the yard is mine.

I own it – with my husband – and so we give it care.

But often, far too often, the weeds make their home there.

Where they all may come from, I haven’t got a clue.

It seems that every season we have more that are new –

Along with all the old ones that spring up everywhere,

And spew out seeds recklessly, like they don’t have a care!

And so I write this poem – and it comes from my heart:

Before the next Spring cometh and their season hath new start,

I must fight to remove them, swiftly eradicate

Them from my fruitful garden so my seeds can propagate.

But in my mind I’m certain the fight will linger still:

The weeds will not be mastered. despite my steadfast will.

And when I’m fraught with anger that they’ve returned again,

I’ll fight for what I’ve planted as I sing this sad refrain:

I hate weeds in the morning, despise them in the night,

When the sky is gloomy and when the sun is bright.

I hate them for invading the place that we now own –

And acting like our hallowed ground belongs to them alone.

I hate weeds that are shallow and spread out rapidly,

And those that stalk the fence line to sneak up stealthily.

I hate the ones with deeeeep roots that never want to leave;

That spread beneath the surface, and to the hard ground cleave.

I hate weeds with sharp thistles, with burrs and pods and seeds.

They injure with injustice, and insult with new weeds!

They choke out what I’ve planted and steal their nourishment.

I battle their mere presence, and plant’s discouragement!

My weed-fight is personal, and yet one we all share.

Invasion of a sacred space doesn’t seem quite fair.

It isn’t a new battle. Where did it have its start?

Sadly, in a garden where sin rooted in the heart.

It was our own forefather – his own wife led astray –

Who brought the curse on all land, when he chose to disobey.

The God of all creation, who planted the garden there

Had given life to bless them, and plenty of fruit to share.

But something moved this Adam, actually his own wife:

When Eve ate forbidden fruit it interrupted life.

As the Creator warned them, that day death had its start

When the ground was cursed with weeds, cuz’ sin bloomed in a heart.

I won’t quit hating weeds, perhaps I’ll hate them more.

I’ll fight against their reckless ways much harder than before.

I’ll do it while considering the weeds that root in me,

The sin that wants to have its way in one Christ has set free.