The River Church Community

The past two days I have spent the afternoon at the community garden, digging plots, sowing seeds and just generally preparing for the winter.  I was hoping to have more of a "retreat"--quite, reflection, calm.  But each day, I was warmly greeted by a child.  Two days ago, a second grader named Jesus called out to me from a side window of his home-- "HEY, can I help you?"  And then before I even finished saying "sure" he was running around the block to hang out.  Digging soil and uprooting dead plants, he told me about his family and the bullies that pick on him—how they jump and torment him.  A young tender boy, longing for affirmation and attention, he talked and joked and wondered at the bugs he found.  Yesterday, it happened again.  This time, though, it was Victor a third grader, who just wanders alone after school.  I could feel his need for male attention and affirmation and so I asked about his father.  "I don't have a father," he said.  “I am so sorry.  It must be hard to not have a father.”  And we worked, he talked and talked and talked…

I must confess that both afternoons I wanted time alone and was initially frustrated by my surprise visitors.  And yet, as I sit here today, I am grateful to God for my garden guests.  Somehow, in the midst of digging dirt, composting old plants, and planting new one’s, I remembered that life is not cemented by fate but forever a process of death and resurrection—whether it be in the garden or in the lives of a few boys who live down the street from me.  Maybe simply digging together was the beginning of the new fathering these boys needed.  Maybe, just maybe, I will even see them today in the afternoon as I swing by the garden.  I wonder if I will.  Actually, I hope I will.