Battling Pests and Perfectionism: More Life Lessons from My Garden
I walked out to my garden yesterday and immediately felt defeated. The constant rain had done its work—the weeds were thriving, but my plants looked sad and sparse. Disease has found a home on some plants. Weeds have surfaced between the beautiful white rocks of my garden paths. But then I noticed one of my best tomato plants appeared shriveled and lifeless. As I moved aside a branch, I found dozens of caterpillars consuming its once-lush leaves.
“What’s the point?” I thought. “This is just one plant with one set of issues. How many others still need my attention?”
In that moment, I finally understood something I’ve heard many older women say: “I used to garden, but I just don’t have the time or energy for it anymore.” Organic gardening is work—sometimes discouraging work. And standing there, surveying the damage, I felt a familiar pang. Not just because of what I was seeing (or not seeing) in the garden, but because it mirrored something deeper stirring in my own heart.
I’ve pulled bugs off plants before. I’ve carefully turned over every leaf to protect a crop. (Had I not done that last year, I wouldn’t have harvested over 100 sweet potatoes!) I’ve watched for signs of disease, troubleshooted, adjusted—and many times, it paid off.
In previous seasons, the only thing I had to compare to was my own humble beginnings. But this year feels different. Now I have last year’s harvest in the back of my mind, plus the seemingly flourishing gardens of three friends. One friend has dozens of cucumbers—I have one. Another—whom I gave a tomato plant to—has clusters of fruit ripening on her vine. I have three. Whatever I’m growing, they seem to have tenfold. Their gardens look full, green, fruitful. Mine feels...behind. Struggling. Sparse.
You see, the real issue isn’t just pests or disease. It’s comparison. Envy. It’s the quiet belief that my garden should be just as “successful” as theirs. It’s the unmet expectation I’ve placed on myself. It’s perfectionism, once again, taking root in my heart.
If you don’t garden, this might all sound trivial. But I’ve poured my heart into this area of homemaking. I study, research, and plan. I choose disease-resistant varieties. I start from seed to give everything the best possible chance. I work hard, trying to faithfully steward what I’ve been given. In short—I do everything I can to be in control. But I’m not. And even if gardening isn’t your thing, these feelings find a way to surface in numerous other items we give our mind and time to.
These thoughts flooded my mind as I knocked caterpillar after caterpillar off my tomato leaves. And somewhere in the midst of that tedious work, I remembered these truths:
1. God is sovereign.
He sits on His throne, ruling, reigning, and controlling all things. Gardens included. Yes, this includes every creature, every bug, and every plant. I quote this often but it’s because I absolutely love it. R.C. Sproul says there are no maverick molecules. The conclusion is that for reasons I may never fully understand, this is the garden He’s given me this season. Do I trust Him? And can I rejoice in that?
“Whatever the Lord pleases, He does, in heaven and on earth, in the seas and all deeps.” —Psalm 135:6
2. This earth is cursed.
The difficulty of gardening literally began in Eden. In Genesis 3, God said to Adam,
“Cursed is the ground because of you; in pain you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you…” —Genesis 3:17–18
Why am I surprised that this is hard?
“For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption...” —Romans 8:20–21
3. This world is not my home.
This cursed earth will one day pass away. And while I’m called to steward what I’ve been given, I can’t cling too tightly to it. I have to remind myself of this every time a hurricane warning, hailstorm, or hard freeze comes.
“But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.” —Philippians 3:20
4. There is common grace all around me.
God has given me eyes to see the problem, a mind to troubleshoot, and hands to take action. The fact that we can grow anything at all is a testament to His kindness. There is much to be thankful for but it requires a heart and mind that isn’t fixed on the immediate problem to be able to step back and see that.
“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights...” —James 1:17
5. This is just a hobby.
Our livelihood doesn’t depend on this garden—it’s a gift, not a necessity. He meets our daily needs. I think of farmers in times of famine, and I realize: no one is putting pressure on my garden but me. I need to lower my expectations.
“But if we have food and clothing, with these we will be content.” —1 Timothy 6:8
6. In every circumstance, there is always a lesson to be learned.
There’s something to learn in both the good and the bad. And maybe—just maybe—the hard garden teaches more than the easy one. Maybe the difficulty makes the actual fruit that much sweeter.
“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.” —James 1:2–3
Listen to the wisdom my dear friend Nicole texted me:
I’m praying that the fruit of this season, though unseen right now, will be far greater than any cucumbers on a vine. (Though, I do hope for some of those too! Lol.)
I’m looking to the wrong fruit. Physical fruit is a benefit but the spiritual fruit borne from trying times is long-lasting. God uses trials to complete the good work He began in us (Phil. 1:6).
7. God gave me this lot—not my neighbor’s.
It’s foolish to compare my literal and physical plot of land to someone else’s. There are countless variables in gardening—soil, sunlight, rainfall, pests, timing. It's not fair to expect identical results in different conditions. And ultimately, it’s God who gives the growth. Who am I to demand what my neighbor has been given?
“You shall not covet your neighbor’s house… or anything that is your neighbor’s.” —Exodus 20:17
“So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.” —1 Corinthians 3:7
(I will update and note that two of my gardening friends saw the above picture and told me they’ve had the same problems and have had to spray. It’s so like Satan to make us feel like we are the only ones experiencing whatever dilemma we are facing.)
In conclusion, all of these truths helped calm my heart. Just before the sun set, I sprayed everything down with neem oil and by the end of it all, the caterpillars were gone—giving my plant a chance to heal and, Lord willing, to keep growing. So I’ll keep tending. I’ll keep learning. I’ll keep uprooting the perfectionism and comparison that sneak in like weeds. And I’ll trust that even in the struggle, something unseen and beautiful is still growing, if not in my garden then at least within me by the grace of God.