Better is the end of a thing than its beginning, and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit. Be not quick in your spirit to become angry, for anger lodges in the heart of fools. Say not, “Why were the former days better than these?” For it is not from wisdom that you ask this.” Ecclesiastes 7:8-10
You came to this house and to this land when you were sick. In the sun you worked, and with your hands you made something beautiful. You designed and built. You dug your hands into the dirt. While you worked, you healed. You planted seeds in this new garden, but you also planted hope within yourself. As the garden grew, so did your hope for the future. The garden flourished. So did you.
Seasons past, dark and light. You changed the plan. You made it better. Every year, you grew the vision. You worked hard, every year. And with this work, you grew stronger.
More seasons past, dark and light, until you discovered something beneath the garden. This “something” had to be fixed. In haste, you tore the garden out. Everything. Every plant and box. Every plan you once made. You undid years and years of labor. You destroyed the garden that brought you healing. Only a remnant was saved.
And when it was done, you felt angry. You felt sadness. You wept for what was, for what would never be again. The memory of other pain rose up strong. Pain from the past. Loss. This new sadness found sadness to commiserate with. It hurt. The undoing. It hurt.
When you looked up from the tears, you saw what you started with. A blank canvas. A place for hope. A place to plan and dream. Perhaps there will be hope again. Perhaps there will be life and growth again. From the end of this thing, there comes a new beginning. Both in the dirt and in you.
