Tending God's Garden

I am Mother Nature. Or rather, I used to be. Or rather, I used to pretend to be.

It started simply enough. When I was 12, my family joined First Presbyterian Church in Jefferson City. My parents quickly became involved in the church community, my mother serving as a deacon, coordinating crafts for vacation bible school, teaching youth programs, the usual.

It took me a bit longer to find my niche, however. In my limited experience with tweendom, I’ve found that most kids that age don’t quite feel like they belong anywhere; couple that with the fact that I was a bit shy anyway, and it’s not surprising that I preferred to hide in the balcony at church—and in the uppermost row of the balcony at that. I had hoped that pew, farthest from the pulpit, might be my “niche.” My mother thought otherwise.

As I sat on my frilly canopy bed one night doing homework, she appeared in my doorway with a dress. A seafoam-green peasant dress. It was long--no, it was flowing--with a faded lace trim. I know not from whence this peculiar dress came. Perhaps it was from a local thrift shop, a loan from another member of our church, or maybe it was even one of the handful of dresses my mother had held onto from the ‘70s, I’m not sure, but I do remember this: When she handed me the dress and told me to try it on, my first instinct was to crawl under that canopy bed.

But I studied the dress for a moment, and though it wasn’t pretty in the traditional sense, and it certainly didn’t look like what everyone else was wearing in late 1980-something, it kind of appealed to me. So I slipped it on. It fit. And as I soon discovered, fitting into this dress obligated the wearer to a unique duty: posing as Mother Nature for the church’s Earth Day event.

Before that moment, I had never even heard of Earth Day, though I suppose it had already been around for almost two decades by that time. And to be honest, I hadn’t really given the environment a second thought, save during those long hikes with my family in the Rocky Mountains when I wished someone would cut down all those flippin’ trees and replace them with a Taco Bell. But my mother assured me that helping with the event would be fun, I’d get to wear a crown of flowers (okay, even at the ripe old age of 12 that still appealed to me), and I could talk to little kids.

So I put on my funky green dress and a wreath made of dried flowers and spent a Saturday morning walking around my church’s basement. Though I’m not sure what kids thought I was supposed to be or how they felt about it, I enjoyed it nonetheless. We had games and activities that taught the basics: recycle, plant trees, don’t pollute. Simple lessons to be sure—but their meaning was amplified because they were coming from the church.

Nearly 30 years later I found myself working in public information for an environmental organization. Honestly, I can’t say I had been drawn to the work as the result of some greater purpose or higher calling, I just wanted a steady, reliable income and health insurance to help support my growing family.  Once again my job was to remind people to plant trees, visit parks, obey the three “R’s,” and to limit pollution.

Sadly, over time these simple messages had become politically charged, as had the nature of my work. And I remember during a particularly turbulent workweek receiving a note in the mail from my boss—a great mentor and one of my dearest friends—that simply read, “Hurt not the earth, neither the sea nor the trees, Revelations 7:3.”

As I read that note I remembered all those years ago, pretending to be Mother Nature simply because the green dress fit. I remembered that the roots of my interest in ecology came from that church basement, just as my appreciation for the world that God had created was rooted in my faith, and had eventually blossomed into true awe at the beauty of the world around us.

The green mantle fits each of us; our planet is one great big, beautiful garden, planted by God, and each of us is charged with responsibility for tending to it. It is an honor and a blessing to be His gardener.

Here are a few fun ways your family can help tend His garden:

* Look for ways to reduce, reuse and recycle this spring. Keep canvas totes in the car for trips to the store. Watch for local events where crafty kids can “upcycle” one-of-a-kind clothes and jewelry. Invest in lightweight, reusable dishes for picnics and barbecues this summer, rather than disposable paper.
* Shop at farmers’ markets for seasonal produce, which not only supports local farms but also reduces the energy used to transport produce from out-of-state.
* When choosing plants this spring, remember to “Grow Native” and consider purchasing a rain barrel to conserve water. Visit missouribotanicalgarden.org for tips on using sustainable practices in gardening.
* And perhaps most importantly, help educate children from a young age why it’s important to love and cherish God’s garden; inspiring an appreciation of nature can be as easy as planning a trip to a local or state park or conservation area. Visit mostateparks.com for a complete list of state parks and mdc.mo.gov for conservation areas.

By Kathy Deters