Being a Mary

 

Carefully, Don and I stretched the netting across the strawberry patch, noting that some of the berries are beginning to ripen, aware that voracious birds will also have noted that.

Along the paved pathway, a row of self-planted strawberry plants also promise a burst of juicy sunshine on my morning granola. There are only a few, so I didn’t bother to cover them.

Yesterday I popped out to pick the two which I knew should be ready. First fruits of this year’s promising crop. Gone. Those blackbirds with their beautiful songs! Or those pigeons with their peaceful cooing. Or any number of other birds, laughing and chirruping as they eye up the ripening crop in the cherry trees.

Now, I’m all in favour of sharing the bounty of the garden with wildlife – but the first strawberries? All of the cherries? Sigh.

Mom still regularly shares some of her words of wisdom with me: ‘Do what you can, and let the rest go.’ I’ve just read the story of Mary and Martha. Today I identified with Martha. When the sun is out, like it was for three days in a row recently (!), I feel compelled to bring some order to the chaos of the garden. To maximise the possibility of a good harvest of what we have planted and tended, by weeding, watering, feeding, protecting.

I see the chipping paint and varnish on the outside of the house and feel an itch to get up a ladder. The dirty windows become more noticeable on a sunny day. Don is away helping people who need help.

I become a Martha. Not who I want to be. So help me today, Lord, to follow Mom’s advice. To do what I can, and happily let the rest go. To do what I can, without missing time with you, with loved ones, with friends, with new acquaintances. To compromise on the work, not on the relationships.

May I choose the better way today, dear Lord. Help me.