Dear God, it is morning. So many chores, as I tend my tiny garden plot. I planted these rows so neatly, yet overnight they became unruly. Weeds grow that were not there yesterday. Each day, it seems, I set about the same tasks to keep this patch of soil productive. I depend on the growth to nourish me. Indeed you – the sun and the rain – spur forth such a bounty that I may sometimes share with my fellows. It falls on me simply to be regular and persistent in these small chores.
Lord, let me take no pride in the neatness of my garden, nor self-satisfaction at my prodigious weeding and watering. No award nor notice is due me for such simple, daily tasks.
Let me attend this small soul in me because on it I depend for nourishment, not because I will present it later for accolades. This is a working garden, that you bestowed on me, unlooked-for, in return for simple and diligent stewardship.
Let my daily work be the thanks I give.