We’re composters.
It takes more effort than simply tossing it all in the garbage, but somehow it feels worth it. Apple cores, vegetable peelings, onion skins, coffee grounds—so many coffee grounds—grass clippings, yard debris. and whatnot. All the plant-based this-es and thats left behind go on the compost pile where they will mingle, breakdown, and eventually, over time, turn into humus. Rich, dark, and earthy, it is full of good stuff that can improve soil health. Better soil grows better things. Better things make life around them better. By breaking down, what is composted eventually helps build up. Thrown into the garbage, all of that leftover stuff would go to the dump, and go to waste, never turning into the earthy gold it could have been.
What if what is true of the compost pile is true of our hearts? What if the lives we’ve lived in the past are meant to amend the soil of the ones we are living now? What are the leftovers of our lives that might mingle, breakdown, and eventually, over time, turn into humus for our souls? Old stories that no longer serve us,? Wounds we’ve licked rather than healed? Resentments held? Beliefs that no longer hold up in the face of new information? Closed chapters? Rather than toss them out, what if we allowed them to become the rich soil in which we might further flourish and grow? Better soil grows better lives. Better lives make the world around them better. By breaking down, what is composted eventually helps build up.
Will it take more effort than simply tossing our past, our this-es and thats, into the trash?
It will.
Will it take more time, more intention, more courage?
It will.
Will it mean experiencing more pain, grief, and the growing pains that come with, well, growing?
It will.
Will it be worth it?
It will.
