E: Mommy what IS that moving in the dirt?

L: It’s a baby worm (centipede).

E: Oh it’s a baby just like Fiona.  (To the worm) Hi, little baby Worm, Fiona.  You’re so cute!

The Strawberries are in the ground.  The kale and and lettuce too.  Little Baby Worm Fiona and her friends are helping to loosen the dirt so the roots grow deep and strong in the little side flower bed that we call our ‘garden’.

Scoff if you wish.  I know that the threat of frost has not yet passed and that the shade covers our ‘garden’ most of the day.  I know that weed roots run deep and I didn’t dig them all out.  I fluff the dirt with E’s toy shovel and watered with an old milk jug, all while F sits in her stroller swinging her legs and E is sweeping around dirt with a broom ‘helping’ mommy.  I cannot even bring myself to wear gloves because I so crave the dirt and grime under my nails.

We are no professionals.  We can barely call ourselves amateur farmers.  Most of all, we’re children playing with God’s earth.

One of my resolutions for this year was to get closer to the earth, so I can experience God in his naturally occurring church.  Farming is one act of this resolution that I have to complete.  I want to bring my kids outside and let them play (or eat!) dirt.  I want to get unexpected sunburns on my back where my shirt rises up too high as I bend over to till the soil.  I want E to recall this day as we sit down at the dinner table and discuss where tomatoes come from.  I want E to recall this day as we sit down and discuss ‘where is God’.

I don’t care if the garden grows or if we ever will enjoy our own harvest.  We can buy fruit and kale if we need.  For me, it’s the act of doing that brings me joy.  It’s the conversations about dirt that I crave.  It’s the sweet words that spill out of a joyful E’s mouth that I linger upon:

E: We’re not going to hurt you little worm.  Get to work and help our plants to grow.