I an currently reading a most delightful book by Kate Llewellyn called "A
Fig at the Gate". It's a book about gardening, and growing old, and life. Kate
(she already feels like an old friend) has written in a journal format, sharing
her ordinary days in her Adelaide garden, what she grows and loves, about her
chooks and the sparrows nesting out the window, shared wisdom of gardening
friends and memories from childhood.
This is not a 'can't put down' book. In fact, I read it slowly, to savor
the beauty of her thoughts and the words she uses to portray them, just like
some people use a teaspoon for their dessert to make it last longer.
Here's an example of what she writes about her mother, just a thought or
memory, but it both moved and inspired me:
"Why do some of us feel we must... have made some progress daily? To
have something to show that you have lived this day. That is what diary writing
is about. To have planted something, to have fed something or somebody, or given
somebody something. It could be a country thing. My mother and the mothers of my
friends fed, delved and gave daily almost to the end.
It might have been a bowl of soup to a workman or a child, or a bunch of
flowers to a neighbour, or some eggs, or almonds: just anything could be a gift.
In the case of my mother, it was a sponge cake she made five or six mornings a
week. Beating the eggs in the Mixmaster on the table behind her while she was
washing up. As soon as the cake cooled, it was sandwiched with apricot jam she
had made from her tree and with cream she had whipped from her cow. Now there's
a thing which cost almost nothing and which didn't need to be changed, as
different men came to eat it".
How lovely! I immediately want to grab the Mixmaster out of the cupboard or
go and pick some flowers for someone.
But to answer her question, why are we like this? I would say, because we
are made in the image of God, and He is a giving, generous God. So when we
imitate Him, it pleases both of us.
When I (sadly) finish this book, I will be checking the local library for
her others, and there are quite a few. Or, I just might re-read it.
