7/29/2019 God Gave Us Weeds

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God Gave Us Weeds

By Andrea Lizares Si

One afternoon of a particularly disappointing and exhausting week, Iwent on a rampage against the easiest targets, the weeds in my garden. Itwas good therapy, rooting out weeds as I would root out and rid myself oftiresome habits, wrong attitudes, helplessness and frustration that made itimpossible for me to do productive and meaningful work. In the course ofthe slaughter, I fought with God and myself about the curse of being giftedand the merits of giving in to peaceful mediocrity.

Then, perhaps because Id been talking in their presence for more thanenough weed generations, a weed found its voice. How can you be so

stupid? It said by way of introduction. It was a young weed, easilyuprooted. I had intended to make it my next victim.

Youre the one without a brain. Youre not even supposed to be talkingI was too angry to be surprised. "How dare you call me stupid!

I can sing as well, the weed said as it began to hum. Its voice soundedof long ago summers in my fathers farm. Why are you so angry? it asked.The sun is shining and youre alive.

How can you be so happy? All the world hatesweeds!The same God who made humans made weeds. Have you ever asked

yourself why?I guess because theres a weed somewhere that will provide the curefor cancer or some other dread disease, I answered quickly.

A reasonable answer but an intellectual one. Wisdom means beingable to answer from your heart, said the weed.

Unbelievable, a weed arguing with me. The only real use I have forweeds is so I can have victims for my wrath. I said, my impatience rising.

How like a human to bully the weak. But that answer gets an A forhonesty" A weed trying to teach me. Unthinkable, and yet.. . . .

Admit that you have much to learn even from the most simple and the

most lowly. But why do you hesitate to acknowledge that? Because youthink Im just a dumb weed?

Many other times, weeds had tested my patience and determination. Tokeep from giving up on the war against them, Id become a philosopher ofsorts, rationalizing that like garbage, laundry, dirty dishes, and dust, weedsare a reality of our human condition and our inability to succeed in an allout, once-for-all campaign against them do not mark us as failures.

7/29/2019 God Gave Us Weeds

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I softened. Something about weeds. Youre ugly, uneducated,unpopular, poor. People hate you. Anyone in your place will want to shrivelup and die. But look at you. Long after Im gone, there will be weedsgrowing happily in this place.

Gives you room for thought, doesnt it? Humans take everything forgranted and give up too easily. A good weed will just keep growing back,trying again. And again. And again, ad infinitum.

You have no idea how much failure hurts, I said. I get tired trying.Some things Im not meant to win.

Its been said, Argue for your failures and sure enough they are yours,something like that. Do you realize that life isnt at all about winning?

What can a weed know about life? But am I better because of all thetrophies gathering dust in my shelves, the moments of triumph that peopleno longer remember? The successes that matter at all are those that came

after long, painful struggles. These were not about proving myself better orsmarter than everyone else. What made those victories memorable is that Ipersisted, held on tenaciously to a dream, refused to let myself bedisheartened by obstacles and setbacks. I think of what is most meaningfulin my life now, our advocacy for women, our campaign against corruptionand for good governance, our work for transformation in society and in theChurch. There are times it feels we are never very far from square one.People seem not to listen or to care. Never ending struggles these. Maybelike garbage, laundry, dirty dishes, weeds in the garden.

This incident with the weed happened so many years ago, that I haveforgotten if I pulled out my talkative little friend or if I gave it a reprieve. Mydaughter does the gardening these days. I also have maids to take care ofall the house-cleaning that needs to be done. But difficult seasons makeme think of weeds. In my mind, I may see myself relentlessly pulling themout, one problem after another, clearing patch after patch of what isn'tgoing well, feeling revitalized and healed by the process. Or I may think ofmyself as the weed, trodden underfoot, yet impossible to keep down.

Always growing back, never discouraged, stubborn in its determination tohave its day in the sun, ever ready to try again. And again. And again. Ad

infinitum.I no longer complain about weeds or ask God why he made them. I just

know that when I have had enough of trying, when I want to give up morethan anything else in the world, I think of how weeds never give up. And Isay resolutely to myself, "I will never never ever let a stupid weed beat me."