To clear a space for grace

The wild garlic was already heading for abundance in the little garden of my new home, when I moved in last autumn. But as longterm readers of this blog might recall, I have a relaxed, tolerant attitude towards what we usually call weeds - thus, uprooting these grassy alliums wasn't one of my priorities. And then, as the garlic proliferated into the winter, it became too cold to do any weeding... and then of course, I was too busy... The hours of daylight too short... And then came several weeks of near-constant rain, during which it was too wet, and the wild garlic happily became even more pervasive.

Until a couple of days ago; when it was not only dry but sunny, with the soil nicely soft and moist - ideal for weeding! And so there I was, after lunch, prising and pulling clump after clump from the earth, being reminded of just how hardy and deep the grasses' roots were, and how pungently garlicky their smell could be. And - oh joy! - underneath all this smelly grassy stuff, I uncovered some low-lying asters, last seen maybe three months ago, before the garlic spread over them. I also found some primroses and tiny violets, which had been valiantly growing and flowering, and doing what they were created for, even though they’d been half-choked and barely seen any light. But now, unchoked, they can bloom and flourish even more!

I hadn't set out to do weeding as a Lenten practice, but within a short time, the parallels with this season of conversion and renewal were unmistakeable. The wild garlic had only proliferated because I had allowed it to, just as I can indulgently allow my lukewarmness, infidelity and laziness to take hold. Its roots are as deep, and hard to eradicate, as those of any selfishness or bad habit which has been given free rein. Its smell, too, clung to my hands long after I had moved on to something else - sin hangs around, and doesn't give up without a fight! 

And of course, our short fuses, our irritabilty and weaknesses can all too often hide or choke a deep-down kindness or gentleness which we secretly yearn for everyone to know. But every Lent we're offered the opportunity to uproot and clear away whatever chokes and hides the goodness and loveliness within us... To remove the weeds, so that love can be seen again. To clear a space for grace... these words bubbled up within me as I dug and tugged and admired the emerging bare spaces. To clear a space for grace... It felt like a half-remembered line from a Malcolm Guite sonnet, which I eventually found:

To keep and clear for Love a sacred space
That we might be beginners in God's grace.

To clear a space for Love... which is to clear a space for grace, and for the growth, and the wider, purer hearts we will only find in Love...

As we enter into the second week of Lent, may we all continue clearing a space for grace, and Love's outpouring...