“Oh come, let us worship and bow down; let us kneel before the Lord, our Maker!”
While I was out of town visiting my children, the weeds in the garden grew so tall that I could barely get to the plants. I wanted to clear them out, but the summer’s heat and the smoke from the nearby wildfires stopped me. Every time I went out to water, I felt a pang of guilt—the garden looked so forlorn and unkempt.
Yesterday, I was able to tug on my overalls and sit on the soft, damp clay and dig out the offending growth. I had hours of work ahead of me, but I didn’t mind; I had the bees to keep me company. They buzzed about my head, visiting the blossoms. The birds sang sweet songs to me, perched in the pear trees. The wind ran her fingers through the tall Poplars, just beyond the fence; the sound of the leaves a little symphony.
“Thank you, for this beautiful day, God,” I said. “Thank you for this garden and all the life around me.” I popped a cherry tomato in my mouth and savored the burst of flavor. I lovingly lifted a wayward branch, heavy with fruit, and placed it back inside the tomato cage. “Jesus said that how we treat the least of us is how we treat Him. Does that include how we treat tomato bushes?” I asked, smiling. “I hope that you feel my love for you this morning.”
“I do,” whispered God.
“Good, because I adore you,” I said. The simplest of tasks can be worship if we allow them to be, even weeding a vegetable garden on a warm summer’s morning.