The Certainty of Peas

a devotional for early spring

Photo by Deb Barnes on Unsplash

we only know to grow:

soft leaves unfurling in soft light
we swell with the new sun; 

not tender like the summer plants
no, not hoping for heat,

we wear the cold like a crown. 

each freezing night invites our sweetness upward, 
deepens our green
firms our resolve, 

and pulls our reaching souls
(tendrils curling, coiling, uncloistered)
up through the season’s weave. 

On President’s Day, I planted peas. I don’t remember where I first heard the adage that, in our region, you should get your peas planted by President’s Day, but I always abide by it. The one time I didn’t (last year) things didn’t go as well, so the evidence suggests that peas by President’s Day is the only way to do it. 

My favorite variety of pea, the only one I plant, is called Green Arrow. I get them from a regional seed company, and they are basically foolproof, yielding dozens and dozens of long and gorgeous pods stuffed with peas every summer.

My mouth is watering, just thinking about it. 

I’ll confess: peas are my favorite plant to grow, hands down (but don’t tell the others). The seeds are chonky and fun to play with, the sprouts are big and awkward and tasty and tough to kill, and—if I time it right—I’ve never had a batch of Green Arrows not yield a successful crop. They are the plant that makes me feel like a good gardener, even when I feel behind. They are a “gimme”. And sometimes I need that.

We put a high premium on the difficult tasks. The hard road is the rewarding road, right? And that’s true; I’m not going to argue it isn’t. Sanctification is a tough gig. It’s not pretty or fun. It’s mud and blood and viscera, with a lifeline of silver hope running through it that sometimes feels impossible to spot. 

But you know what? Every once in a while, it’s okay to plant the easy stuff. It’s okay to go for the easy harvest. It’s okay to lean on the old standbys. 

In our garden, peas are grace. They are strength and resilience. They are savor and flavor and God’s green generosity.

In our garden, peas feel like a certainty in an uncertain world. And let me tell you: there never was a sweeter taste.

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