. Firmly rooted; ineradicable: incorrigible faults.
. Difficult or impossible to control or manage: an incorrigible, spoiled child.
American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition
Have you ever felt like your soul was incorrigible? I have. In fact, this personal awareness is one of the reasons I enjoy gardening so much. Breaking up the fallow ground in my yard mirrors the seemingly impossible work God’s Spirit has to do when it comes to dealing with me.
He shovels, I wince. He racks, I moan. Circumstances and people enter my life whose sole purpose (I’m convinced) is to unearth me. Yes, my soul is definitely incorrigible if I’m left to my own devices.
Recently my husband and I decided to redo a section of our back yard. We yanked out all of the bushes and plants. The process of pitchforking to remove deeply embedded roots took weeks. Repetitive stabbing and turning, stabbing and turning strained every muscle in our bodies. The scripture “Break up your fallow ground” took on new meaning. I also wondered what my part was in the process God takes me through when He wants to soften my incorrigible soul.
After the churning, turning, racking, and straightening was complete, my husband formed planters and a place for a path.
I began to envision my future garden and then the excitement sprouted.
Eager to plant, I loaded a metal flatbed cart full of sand, decorative rocks, moisture control mulch, and flowering plants. People snickered as I passed them in the gardening section of Lowe’s.
“You know it’s going to be 103 degrees today. I sure hope you’re not going to do that all this afternoon.” One kindly gentleman said with a smile.
“Wow, looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you.” Said another passerby.
Their counsel did not deter me. I returned home and spent the next six hours mixing the soil additives and planting. I heard that marigolds kept squirrels and insects away so I lined the flowerbeds with these happy flowers. The next morning I took pictures like a proud parent on graduation day.
Then the battle with the squirrels began. I returned home yesterday from my birthday lunch only to find several marigolds uprooted with roots nibbled. They munched my Shasta daisy petals as well.
Other vermin of soul come to destroy my spiritual garden. I know I shouldn’t gossip but I do. Chomp munch, chomp munch. Negativity eats away my conscience.
What a metaphor of life! I muse. We work hard at planting positive thoughts into our minds and generous feelings into our hearts. We endeavor to use our talents as the good Lord directs but there’s always little pests waiting to upturn and chop on our efforts.
Yes, gardening reminds me of the challenges that tempt me to remain crusted and hardened. Yet, every morning I wander along the little path and believe that together, the Lord and I will conquer my incorrigible soul.