A garden untended is like a bed unmade or a full head of hair uncombed. All are a little sad and neglected and speak to me of discouragement. Life can have its share of untended-garden moments, when nothing seems worth the effort to move upon it. But life also has a habit of sneaking in those tiny moments of hope. The water in the fountain running. The apple tree leafing. The hollyhock attempting to conquer the fence. I look for the tiny moment of hope in my untended-garden seasons. Each is a tender mercy from God who created me and who gave me stewardship over my garden. His grace gives me courage to move upon tomorrow and make it better.