Inspiration from a Rose

A score and two years ago, I brought forth upon my backyard a plant that turned out to be one of the most pervasively invasive plants in America, Multiflora [see http://westboroughlandtrust.org/nn/nn77.php ]. [And it wasn't born here—it was brought here from Asia]. In the past few weeks I have been relentlessly reaping what I have sown. Thankfully a crew of men came through and cleaned out the foliage under the power-line that runs behind my house, exposing the roots of my pernicious plant; otherwise my endeavor would have been impossible as the roots were engulfed in the plant's stems covered with thorns the size of Bobcat teeth and just as likely to bite. So for days now, with shovel and machete, I have been digging, hacking, pulling; digging hacking, pulling, in the stinking, rain-soaked, mosquito-infested Louisiana mire. I have been encouraging myself with words that sound like they may have come from our forefathers and great military leaders:

“We shall never, never, never give up. We must persevere with great diligence against this dastardly plant that has invaded our land. The only defeat is surrender: and we shall never surrender. We will most assuredly gain the victory if we persevere in faith and hope. By the sweat of my brow I will til the land that has been infested, since the Curse, with thorns and briers. This land is mine; God gave this land to me. God is on our side. Those coming after me who will live upon this hallowed land will not remember what I have done here, but my immediate family can never forget how dirty, sweaty, tired, and, yes, irritable [God forgive me] I have been in the days of my warfare; and how many pairs of mud-soaked pants, shirts and socks have been dropped into the washing machine between a thumb and finger, head turned away in disgust.”

And then I sing a few bars of “We Shall Overcome”.

“Onward Christian Soldiers” has helped also.

Just like sin in my character, I know that there are still some roots out there that will crop up and try to take over my yard again. I know the war is not over. But just for now, as I survey the grounds, I see none of those insidious little green heads with tiny, baby stems, destined to become greedy tentacles grasping with piercing thorns for more and more of my yard.

This battle is won!

Let us join hands and sing:

“Praise God from Whom all blessings flow...”