When I moved into Ravenwood, my lawn was the prettiest on the block. Thick. Green. Strong. Healthy.
Naturally, when it became mine, I stopped watering it. Grass wasn't meant to be green year-round. It has dormancy periods. It sings "Don't cry for me Argentina." My grass says it's strong. Therefore, I don't baby it.
Now, almost a year later, my lawn has lost its lushness and gained some prickles.
A couple of weeks ago, clover started settling in my front yard. I like clover. It is nice and green. It is a nitrogen-fixing crop, and it has these pretty yellow flowers.
I like pretty yellow flowers.
So, I let it be. I weeded around it. Yep. I got some nasty dandelions and some of the ugly weeds, but got up from my hands and knees to skip over the clover.
...to watch, in one week's time, its soft green leaves become a sticker-bur bed.
The clover was growing stickers!
It got me.
It got me good.
I think about scriptural promises a lot when working on the lawn since it's the closest thing I have to a field right now, and in the Old (and New, I suppose, but since we're going through Moses's life in BSF right now, Old is mostly what I'm reading) Testament there's lots of talk about fields. Promises of an inheritance, promises of provision, God teaching the Israelites how to live, and it seems like at every turn, they're reminded of Gen 3:18. "It will produce thorns and thistles for you, and you will eat the plants of the field." Ack. Sin.
Sin can be pretty sneaky. It looks good and doesn't appear problematic. You let it in a little, and BAM. Sticker-burs erupt.
And then you start pulling... and noticing the little clover patches that I never saw before because I know what it'll grow up to be.
I'm praying that as I pull these stickers from my yard, the Lord will pull stickers from my life.
From the roots, baby.