Overflow - A Ringing Bell

Our neighbor’s zucchini plant has crossed the wooden border.

It has grown and flourished high and free and sprawling, and is now ivy-ing atop our flowering bush.

My boys have been watching it ferociously, worried every morning that our neighbor will trim her garden and take away our overflow.

A yellow flower is blooming on the end of one of the vines and my boys know that this means a veggie. If it’s flowering and in our backyard, they are convinced that we get to partake of it.

My oldest remembers and misses the large and productive squash plants we enjoyed while in the north, and longs for all things dirt, garden, and growth now that we are in this concrete burb city.

And this reminds me that….

People miss things. They long for things. They have voids. They have holes and empty spots. People are searching. Tired. Yearning for what will fill them.

And like our neighbors zucchini plant overflowing into our reach, our lives can spill and flow.

The joy we have, the responses we meter, the calm we show, the trust we exhibit, the love we bestow, the kindness we stream – it can reach up and out and down to people who need it exemplified.

Likewise, the impatience we spew, the anger we sow, the complacency we display, the outbursts we eject – can bequeath and reach the people that border us.

This puts me in line.

And it makes me look up, surrender, and ask for aid in it all.

The things we do, say, and accomplish pool to an outpouring. Whether good and gracious or sour and lousy (and aren’t we all a combination of these?) – who we are emits out onto others. Children, family, coworkers, friends. They are all influenced heavily by our demeanors and leanings.

Lord, help us.

I want the things I brim with to be a blessing.

I want the things that sieve and spill from me to be a balm and lift to people.

I want to overflow in what’s life-giving.

And I want to always be aware of the impact my tides create.

I can only do this keenly if I yield to the Spirit of Christ working within.

Tomorrow, when my boys rise from bunks they will pitter to the back door and look for the large green leaves and golden bud that has found its way to our yard space.

And in a few weeks, if our neighbor generously lets the vine linger, we will consume something pure and good from her garden.

May our people be able to do the same.