The Mystery of Life and Death

a lesson from the compost pile

Upon moving to the farm, many dreams have been realized - some, even the smallest of dreams. One of those dreams has been to have a compost pile - out in the open, that I can easily turn over. One of our CSA members even asked me if I wanted her husband to build us nice wooden compost bins in order to contain the pile. I politely declined stating that I am looking forward to compost that is easy to turn over. 

In the early spring, I was positively delighted to turn over the compost pile, taking the beautiful earthy smelling loam from the bottom of the pile. Success!

So you may be wondering how I could possibly be gleaning visions into the mysteries of life and death from my compost pile.  It's not a far leap really.

Each week, I take the full compost bucket from the kitchen, dump it on top of the compost pile, plunge the pitchfork to the bottom of the pile, bringing glorious loamy, earthworm ridden compost to the top. Each time I do this, it is a renewed discovery of joy.  I marvel at how dead grass, rotten fruits and veggies, last season's tomato vines - all become the hearty fertilizer that feeds our garden for the next season.

I find myself recalling the Gospel of John.

Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. (John 12:24)

I am reminded that from death comes new life. The seed must die to bring forth the life of the vine. The seed empties itself, pours out all of itself, so that the vine may thrive. The old falls away, giving birth to something similar, but new. 

So there I am, at the compost pile, pitchfork in hand contemplating: Where are the moments of death in my life? Where is the new life? Jesus what are you telling me?

Since last Spring, I have found myself out at the compost pile digging into this mystery. In the contemplation comes joy - the kind of joy that I just want to remain in.