Frozen Ground and the Finiteness of Time

Mulling on Ecclesiastes as the growing season ends

Dec 04, 2024

The last time always seems sad, but it isn't really. The end of one thing is only the beginning of another.

Laura Ingalls Wilder

Flurries of powdered snow blow around me, zooming past my windshield as I press North on this chilly, late-autumn day. The cold of winter is finally arriving in the frozen north, and the blessing of a long fall is over.

Well, the long fall is over, but the blessings are not. I pull into the slippery driveway of our farm. I see evidence of the accomplishments of this fall: pieces of a redneck greenhouse to be built, a corral, remains of the year’s harvest of deer, and a fair bit of my flower garden now covered in compost.

I back up to the flower garden, hoping for one more spread of dirt before everything is too frozen. I picked up the dirt yesterday; the cardboard weed barrier is ready to be spread.

It’s nice to have a morning of quiet, as the last few weeks have been a blur. It’s getting dark earlier now, and the addition of a few things to my routine has maxed out my schedule. Why is it that we as humans have this tendency to run so hard? When will we realize that much of it is just spinning our wheels?

Speaking of spinning wheels - my rear tires slip as I back over the fresh snow. Adjusting my angle, I take a different path to the garden.

I think of my Bible reading of late - some time spent in Ecclesiastes. Perhaps this lifestyle of investing in the land is most conducive to appreciating the seasonal nature of human life. There is a time for all things.

A time to plant. When we sow new opportunities. I think of the additions to my schedule, and the potential that they hold. I’m learning, working, being a blessing, and loving it.

A time to grow. When the seeds are underground, and you don’t even know if they’ve germinated. I think of the waiting periods, and the faith they require. Filled with service or suffering, purpose or pointlessness, mission or misery. It all depends on how I look at them.

A time to bloom. When the waiting is over, but the work has begun. I think of the investments to be made. God makes everything beautiful in its time, but I am not all-powerful. I can’t rush the plants to bear fruit with the snap of my fingers, let alone direct the steps of my life.

A time to care. When the working continues beyond what is fun. I think of the hours spent weeding and the hours given in ministry that sometimes feel fruitless. It’s in these times that true love is shown.

A time to harvest. When the fruit of the labor finally appears. I think of the joy of the harvest, the satisfaction of acquiring what I’ve worked so hard for. I wish these seasons were longer - but it’s a small window, reflective of the time spent on the previous seasons.

A time to save. When everything I’ve harvested is preserved for the winter to come. I think of the things I’d like to take with me in life, and their temporary nature. Friends, accomplishments, projects - none of them have guaranteed permanence. But, I don’t suppose they’d want to be pickled….

A time to prepare. When I look ahead to the next year, full of reflection and learning and hope. I’ve come to appreciate this season, although I do not love that I don’t know how long I have.

Truck in position, weed barrier down, I pull out a bucket of dirt and flip it upside down. A dusting of dirt falls out, but otherwise it’s as hard as a rock. The dirt froze overnight, so the buckets are filled with blocks of ice-compost.

A time to end. When everything comes to a stop. I think of the whole growing season, the whole of life. The ups and downs, the work and the rest, the waiting and the fruit. I recognize again the frailty of today - how we are not guaranteed a tomorrow.

It’s a sobering thought.

I consider the things I’m preparing. The things I’m saving. The fruit I’m harvesting. The ways I’m caring. The ways I’m blooming. The areas I’m growing. The seeds I’m planting. If everything was to end on the drive home today, would I be satisfied with what I leave behind?

Would God?

I think again of the spinning of my wheels and a conversation with a friend earlier this week. She said, “I don’t want a pastime. I want to use my time.”

Reflecting on my time in my garden this year, I can faithfully say that I used it. And reflecting on my life, I think I could say the same.

I think again to Ecclesiastes. Is it all meaningless? All the planting, working, caring, investing? There is nothing new under the sun, and everything to this point has passed away.

Is it all meaningless? When I get into this rut of thinking, it brings me to Ecclesiastes 3:11: he has also set eternity in their hearts. In the times when I empathize with Solomon and believe that everything is meaningless, I remember that I was not made to love this world. I’m just longing for eternity a little extra on those days.

Because when all is said and done, all is not meaningless. At the end of the day… fear God and keep his commandments. That is not wasted.

So the growing, the saving, and the preparing I am doing spiritually? Those are not meaningless! God has given me this time. It’s a gift, and it’s not an unlimited one.

May I use it well faithfully, until my time winds up.

Thanks for spending ~5 minutes of your time with me! I know these thoughts are in a similar vein as what I wrote about a few weeks ago, but it’s just what’s been on my mind. I hope you found this to be thought provoking and encouraging. Same time next week?

Until then, invest in some wool socks, keep smiling, and give hot chocolate a second chance!

Faithfully,

Katie Stacey

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