Is it worth it?

Every year

I ask, “Is it worth it?”

as my husband

toils with the tiller

to turn up the dirt

that has grown hard and weedy

during the winter.

The time it takes

to prepare the ground

is more than we can spare,

I think. Maybe our efforts

would be better spent elsewhere.

But then I remember:

the way the dirt feels in my hands

as I dig a hole and nestle 

a small plant into its new home

in the dirt of our backyard.

How this placing is a promise

to do what it takes to make it grow.

The truth is: I can only do so much.

I can water when the dirt is dry, and

pull weeds that sneak in. But I can’t

make the sun shine or the rain stop.

I can wait. And I can hope.

Is it worth it?

When the first cucumber blossoms,

the answer is yes.

And when the tomato plants show

yellow flowers, then green fruit,

then ripe reds I can almost taste before

they’re picked, the answer is YES!

When I can pluck herbs 

from the pots on the porch

to toss into the dinner pan,

the answer is yes.

Even when we have

more than we need,

when I grow weary

at the end of summer

of tending these plants,

the answer is still yes.

Is it worth it?

When the tiller sputters and stops working,

I want to give up, too. And then

a neighbor asks if he can put a

couple of tomato plants in our garden.

I’ll pay, he says, and we shake our heads.

This garden, it’s never been only ours.

It belongs to anyone who asks

and some who don’t.

So, we press on and

do what it takes

to prepare the ground to receive.

Is it worth it?

Is beauty worth it?

Is hope worth it?

I ask myself this, too,

when the world around me

is hard and full of weeds.

Do I dare plant a garden

of love and kindness?

Is it worth it?

Most difficult things are

in the end.