I’ve been struggling with something the past few months and I finally had to confront it. You see, I used to have a sweet neighbor from Hong Kong across the street. Her name was Pansy and she had the most magnificent yard in the whole neighborhood. Pansy was in her 80’s, a widow, and had flawless pale skin and wispy, sophisticated silver hair that she always wore pulled back in a loose bun. On Saturday mornings I would often hear the twangy, dissonant sounds of tai chi music as she taught students in her backyard. She had taught at the local community college for years.
Pansy took the stove out of her house when she remodeled years ago because she didn’t bake. Her passion was gardening. Every inch of her little quarter acre was lovingly planned and cultivated. She had gardeners who managed the manicured hedges but she was always fussing at them because they never got it right. She liked it just so. The beds in the front yard were filled with purple and green oyster plant and a short variety of Mother in law’s tongue (sansevieria). Everything in perfect proportion in color and height.
Her side yard, which I looked at every day, had a huge shock of orange and pink heliconia along with bird of paradise. An imposing hedge of purple bouganvilla put a nice buffer between our yards. From my kitchen window I had a view of the most effective agave border. I had never seen it used in such a dramatic way- and it bloomed. She told me once how often- every 10 years I think. The blooms would shoot up about 6-8 feet in the air and I always got out my camera for the show when it did.
She often invited me into her backyard for tea, where I would covet her bromiliads. Varieties upon varieties. Red, variegated, spotted, black, pink- everywhere. There were ginger plants, succulents, fruit trees and ferns. When her husband was alive they installed a waterfall which blended in seamlessly and felt as if it was natural. Little stepping stones led to a white gazebo where she kept her orchids.
One afternoon I went over to say hello to Pansy as I often did. Just to touch base and be a friend. She complained that she had just come out of the hospital and I chided her for not calling me to take her. She had called someone else. She had terrible stomach pain but she was feeling a little better so she decided to check herself out of the hospital. Her homemade Chinese herbal remedies would be much better for her than the doctor’s poking and prodding. It was Christmastime and I went back to the mainland to be with my family. While I was there I got an e-mail from another neighbor. Pansy had passed away. Stomach cancer. It was sudden. I didn’t even get to attend her memorial service because we weren’t in town. So just like that, Pansy was gone. Out of my life. But not really. The beauty in her yard continued to bring me a lot of joy.
The house sat empty but her family paid the gardeners to maintain the yard while it was on the market, not quite as meticulously as when Pansy was here but almost. It looked lovely and reminded me of her. I would go over and cut heliconia and weed the side yard to keep it tidy. Of course, with no stove, it took a long time to sell. Finally, after more than a year there was a buyer.
When I met them the first thing I said was “you must the thrilled with the yard. Imagine owning a home that is already meticulously landscaped and has 30 years of mature growth- a waterfall and a gazebo! Pansy was a master gardener. Her yard was her opus. It was one of the major selling points for you, wasn’t it? Are you plant lovers?”
“No, actually, we hate the plants. We don’t want to have to do any yardwork so we’re ripping out the plants and paving the whole yard. We’re bulldozing the waterfall and tearing down the gazebo." I was stunned and hoped that they would decide against it. Unfortunately, one morning we heard a bull dozer and sure enough, everything in it’s path was doomed for the landfill.
It became apparent that they were going to rip out every single plant so I went over and shamelessly asked if I could rescue some bromeliads. I worked for half an afternoon saving as many as I could from the dump truck. The neighbors were destroying Pansy’s masterpiece- her yard. It was unnatural. In my more dramatic moments I thought that it was almost as if they had something against life itself.
Every day as I looked out of my window and drove past the house, new offenses to my well developed sense of aesthetics started piling up. Laundry hanging out in the garage with the door up, trash cans on display in the front yard. Junk left on the side of the house. Weeds growing taller by the week. One day I got so distressed at the height of the grass where the agave hedge and bougainvillea used to be, that I got out all of my extension cords and cut the whole lawn- what was left- with a weed whacker.
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Formerly landscaped side yard with flowers.
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Can you see what I was doing? I was keeping a record of wrongs. They weren’t even really wrongs, they were just little sadnesses to me. Things weren’t going according to my expectations and I was disappointed. Anger started to grow in the garden of my heart as I resented what they had done to Pansy’s memory and to the view I had enjoyed from my house. Anger was causing me to sin. How could I see past and show love?
I finally realized that anger had taken hold and that it was causing me to harden my heart against my neighbors. I started to pray that the Lord would soften me and let me see the situation as He saw it. The first thing He reminded me of was that I was seeing a real life illustration of what my sin looks like to Him and how it makes Him feel. My resentment and anger were just as offensive to Him as their destruction had been to me. When I choose to disregard and neglect the beauty of His Word, it saddens Him. He knows what could be. He sees how much more lovely and fruitful my life could be if I cultivated His word instead of paving over it with the things of this world. Secondly, He chastised me for allowing the temporal to cloud my view of the eternal. Satan had almost taken me out on this one. I got so myopic and selfish that I wasn’t seeing the heart of my neighbors and I wasn’t reaching out in love to them. Thankfully, we serve a God of second chances. He specializes in U-turns and when people repent he promises to forgive and restore. (1 John 1:9)
I wish I could tell you that they have hired a professional landscaper, cleaned up the junk and everything is bright and cheery over here. It's not. But that’s ok. Actually, it's not okay, I still struggle with feelings of resentment but I'm choosing to let the Lord get inside my heart and do some rearranging. The Lord has given me a daily reminder of the effects of my sin and a renewed heart of love for the people he said I should be loving the most after Him- my neighbors.
