Bees, Seeds, and Hope

Spring is a busy season. Our lives are feeling more full as we move to the outdoors for more stimulation and responsibility.

But this year is different. We have the regular chores of getting our vast garden going. But we are also adding a lot to our homestead: a fence for our backyard, a thousand bees, and the near-dozen puppies our dog is due to have within the week.

The bees were a surprise. Long have we hoped for a beehive of our very own. Bees bopping on plants is such a heartwarming site for me. Plus I like to save the planet sometimes, and the world needs bees. But we've had a wasp problem the past couple years and felt we needed to get that under control before we got a beehive.

My husband's dad and sister are both experienced beekeepers. His sister's hive split when a new queen emerged unexpectedly, and the other queen and her swarm was evicted. My husband's sister gathered the swarm and put it in a hive, realizing they were meant for another home: ours. We are so grateful for her insight and thoughtfulness! It is really fun to have bees moving and grooving on the corner of our property.

Bees keep to themselves. They fly high above the hive, then take off for their routes. Same goes for their return. We live in a neighborhood, but the bees don't bug anybody. I see a flurry of them outside the entrance of the hive, but that is the most I see. They have a job to do, and we are just happy they don't mind living with us.

The beekeepers in our family talk often about the parallels between beekeeping and life. I remember a talk M. Russell Ballard gave about bees and their indispensable industry. Bees are really inspiring!

But for me, I think of how hosting a swarm is kind of effortless at the start--at least it has been for me. I think we just need to keep their water filled for now and let them do their job. They'll work their tails off for one-eighth of a teaspoon honey production each, and we will get POUNDS of honey in the end. Plus more bees for the world.

I was just reading Alma 32, where Alma likens faith to a seed. We are planting the remainder of our garden and also a few bushes today, so these agricultural metaphors are really on my mind. Alma says to "exercise a particle of faith, yea, even if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you..." (Alma 32:27). "...looking forward to the fruit thereof, it shall take root; and behold it shall be a tree springing up unto everlasting life.

"And because of your diligence and your faith and your patience with the word in nourishing it, that it may take root in you, behold, by and by ye shall pluck the fruit thereof, which is most precious, which is sweet above all that is sweet, and which is white above all that is white, yea, and pure above all that is pure; and ye shall feast upon this fruit even until ye are filled, that ye hunger not, neither shall ye thirst.

"Then, my brethren, ye shall reap the rewards of your faith, and your diligence, and patience, and long-suffering, waiting for the tree to bring forth fruit unto you" (vs 41-43).

Heavenly Father is really good at building our capacity over time. I feel like some seeds I planted in my heart many months ago are out of the vulnerable seedling stage and are finally thinking about thriving--like optimism, hope, faith. But I had to plant those seeds. That's the rub, isn't it? You have to plant them, and that is a conscious choice.

As I push actual seeds into the ground today, I'll be thinking of everything these seeds can become. I'll be chopping herbs for our dinner. I'll drive up to my house and see cheerful marigold balls on lush green stems greeting me like they do every year. I'll walk about my garden in July and thank everyone for thriving in the heat. I'll be feeling the crisp October morning air as I pick the pumpkins. And when we clear it all away after the first frost, I won't be able to believe this ground was once so sparsely vegetated. All winter I'll eat squash and green beans and corn--still thankful for the harvest.

In my heart, I felt the gripping indecision of whether or not to treat myself a month ago. When my Lyme numbers came back as high as ever, I didn't know what to do. But I chose nothing, at least for awhile. This period of rest has allowed me to observe the tentative seeds I'm always planting instead of mowing them down to make room for worry and fear. Now that things are looking lush, I like my garden the way it is--deliberate and sturdy and quaint.

I believe in my seeds, in my bees, and in my garden. I'm saving the planet of my soul and looking forward to its harvest. The garden of my soul is more beautiful to look upon with seedlings of love instead of thorns of fear.



Thank you for reading today. I have turned more often to podcasting because of its ease instead of blogging--about Lyme, life, and happenings. If you want to take a listen, go to tawnytuppence.podbean.com or find me on the free Podbean app.