I had been in the house for days. Six to be exact
Sick. Tired. Coughing. And carrying the weight of something happening in my family that I could neither fix nor control. I hadn’t been able to tend my garden.
I knew what the lack of rain had probably done. I knew I hadn’t watered. I knew that after a summer of planting, fighting bugs, pulling weeds, celebrating tiny victories, and spending entirely too much money to grow food I could have bought at the grocery store, much of it was probably dying.
Still, I wanted to see it. Maybe I needed to see it.
The problem was that I didn’t have the energy to walk across the backyard.
So Joseph drove me. Yes. You read that right.
My husband put me in the minivan and drove me across our backyard — in reverse — to my garden.
I can only imagine what the neighbors thought. There we were, slowly backing a Dodge Grand Caravan through the grass as though this were a perfectly ordinary mode of transportation for visiting a garden twenty yards from the house.
But I didn’t care.
He knew I wasn’t strong enough to make the walk. So he found another way. And maybe that’s what love does.
For a little while, I was outside. There was fresh air. There was sunlight. There was my garden. And there was peace.
I didn’t go there to work. That may be the part I need to remember. I didn’t pull weeds. I didn’t drag out a hose. I didn’t try to resurrect what had dried up while I was sick.
For once, I wasn’t going to the garden because something needed something from me. I went because I needed something from the garden.
And when I didn’t have enough strength to get myself there, someone who loved me carried me to it.
That makes me think about the man in Mark 2. He needed to get to Jesus, but he couldn’t get himself there. So four men carried him. And when they arrived, they discovered they couldn’t get through the crowd.
So they found another way. They climbed onto the roof, opened it up, and lowered their friend down to Jesus.
Scripture says that when Jesus saw their faith, He responded.
Their faith.
There are seasons when faith looks like walking boldly toward Jesus on your own two feet. And then there are seasons when faith looks like allowing somebody else to pick up your corner of the mat.
I think we talk a lot about being strong enough to keep going. We don’t talk nearly enough about the grace of being carried.
Moses knew something about that too. In Exodus 17, his hands grew tired. The battle had not ended simply because Moses was exhausted. So Aaron and Hur gave him a place to sit and held his hands up when he could no longer hold them up himself.
Nobody accused Moses of lacking faith because his arms got tired.
Nobody told the man on the mat that if he really wanted Jesus badly enough, he would figure out how to walk.
God allowed other people’s strength to become part of their story. Maybe that is a kind of provision we sometimes miss.
We pray ” Lord, give me strength.”
And sometimes He does. But sometimes His answer looks more like ” I’m sending someone who has enough strength for both of you today.”
Joseph couldn’t fix what was hurting me. He couldn’t make me well. He couldn’t change the things happening around me that I had no control over. He couldn’t even make it rain.
But he could put his wife in the minivan, throw that thing in reverse, and back across the backyard to the little patch of ground that had given her peace during so many other difficult days.
And that was enough.
When we got there, much of the garden looked exactly as I expected.
Dry. Spent. Finished.
But tucked among all of that were a few tomatoes. I picked them. Not enough for some grand harvest. Just enough to hold in my hands and smile.
Somehow, that felt like God too.
Not simply because something had survived. I’ve already learned that lesson. This time, the lesson was that I had been carried there to see them. Sometimes Peace Has to Carry You
Maybe you’ve been trying desperately to get yourself back to your garden. Not necessarily a garden with tomatoes, weird lettuce, and mosquitoes apparently operating an all-you-can-eat buffet.
Maybe your garden is prayer.
Church.
Writing.
Music.
Friendship.
Laughter.
The porch.
A familiar place.
Something that once quieted the noise inside you.
And perhaps you’ve been frustrated because you don’t have enough strength right now to get yourself there.
Maybe you don’t have to.
Maybe this isn’t the season for proving that you can still walk there alone.
Maybe this is the season for letting somebody find another way.
Let them bring dinner.
Let them sit beside you.
Let them hold up your hands.
Let them carry one corner of the mat.
Let them take you somewhere peaceful without requiring you to accomplish a single thing once you arrive.
Let them back the minivan across the backyard if necessary.
Because sometimes God’s provision isn’t the strength to keep carrying everything.
Sometimes His provision is someone who helps carry you.
“They came to him, bringing a paralyzed man, carried by four of them.” — Mark 2:3
Prayer
Lord, thank You for the people who carry us when our own strength runs low. Help me remember that receiving help is not the absence of faith. Sometimes it is how You answer my prayer for strength. When I cannot get myself to the place of peace, send the hands, the shoulders, the friendship, the love — or even the minivan — that helps me get there. And when I am strong enough again, make me willing to pick up someone else’s corner.
Amen.
Love, Chelle
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