Fiona Veitch Smith

A Gardener’s Gospel – Week 11

There’s a programme on British television called Mr Maker. I hate Mr Maker. With a dashing smile and charming good looks, this young man woos our children, like the Pied Piper, into believing that with bits ‘n bobs and PVA glue, anything is possible. Projects that should take 24 hours, allowing for drying time, appear to be complete in less than 30 seconds. It is then that our children want us to replicate.

‘Let’s do that mummy!
‘But we don’t have all the bits ‘n pieces, darling.’
‘But why not?’ they ask with quivering lips.

One day, however, Mr Maker came up with an idea we could replicate - so I thought. He poured some cress seed into an old pair of tights then stuffed it with cotton wool. Elastic bands made ears and a nose, and some fancy store-bought eyes were stuck on for effect – we just used a thick black pen. Megan and I baptised our creation with water and named him: Mr Potato Head.

Mr Potato Head

Every morning for the next week we checked to see if Mr Potato Head’s hair was growing. Eventually we saw tiny shoots pushing their way out of the seeds. I wondered at that time whether they would be able to push their way through the teensy weensy holes in the toes of my tights to reach the fresh air. I can’t help wondering if that’s what my toes think whenever they’re ensconced …

Some of them did (the shoots, not my toes) and after another week, Mr Potato Head had a patchy crop of cress hair. But far more of it was crammed underneath in a green cushion dying to burst free. Eventually I decided to deviate from Mr Maker’s instructions and cut the scalp off Mr Potato Head. My husband was shocked at my audacity, but, as a gardener, I knew I was right. And, I would swear, Mr Potato Head smiled.

Three weeks later we have a healthy head of cress hair that I’ve used in a plethora of culinary delights: roast gammon, lamb casserole, potato salad … now we just wonder how long he can last. Do we replant him into potting compost? If so, do we just stick the cotton wool in the pot and cover it with soil? Any advice would be most welcome (leave comments below, please).

Dreams and visions

In the meantime, I’m reminded of a time in my life, about 10 years ago, when I was assailed with dreams, visions and prophetic words about needing a bit of head space. At the time I was running a Christian theatre company in South Africa. But I had a series of dreams that suggested I needed a change. Firstly, I dreamt I was a rose on a trellis. I reached the end of the trellis and had nowhere else to go. I also dreamt I was an orchid, but that my roots were scraping the sides of my pot. Another dream was of me on a swing, reaching the zenith of my trajectory and being frustrated that I couldn’t go any higher. Then, when I was visiting Kimberley on a ministry trip, I looked into the Big Hole and saw myself as one of the diggers, being unable to break through the rock-face, and drowning, as so many of them did, when the monsoons came. Finally, I dreamt I was a soldier with a helmet that fit when I first went into battle, but later, as a war-scarred veteran, was crushing my scalp.

Bars of iron

One day, while I was mulling over these dreams, the leader of Youth With a Mission in Muizenberg, Cape Town, a woman called Leonor van Gass, came to me and said she’d had a vision. She said she saw me with a metal band on my head. When it was first put on, it fit perfectly. But since then, despite being adjusted for size, it had now come to the end of its expansion. I told Leonor about my dreams then asked her what she thought it meant in light of the vision she had just had:

‘You need some head space,’ she said.

Although I was very happy with YWAM and living what I thought was the ultimate Christian dream – full-time ministry leading, acting and writing for a theatre company – I wasn’t happy. For some reason I really wanted to come to the UK – where I was born. I knew there was so much I had to learn, and as the ‘leader’ I spent my whole time teaching others but having no one from whom I could receive.

Secular ministry

To cut a long story short, I’m no longer in full-time Christian ministry, and yet my writing, including this blog, reaches more people than I ever dreamt of during that time. I have become a professional writing tutor, dealing with Christian and non-Christian writers alike, and am making in-roads into the mainstream theatre world. I definitely feel as if I’ve found some head space and am finally able to breathe. Is it a scary place to be? Yes, but that’s the subject of another post.

Enlarge the place of your tent, stretch your tent curtains wide, do not hold back; lengthen your cords, strengthen your stakes. For you will spread out to the right and to the left.
Isaiah 54:2-3

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