Hey there, and welcome back to the Orthodox Trucker blog and Podcast. I’m Ian—Orthodox Christian, truck driver, husband, father, and steward of a small slice of God’s creation out in Eastern Washington. This past week, I was home with my family, working hard on the homestead. And like so much of life, it brought me back to deeper questions—about the soul, the heart, and what we choose to plant in ourselves each day.
We spent most of the week outside. The sun was shining. The soil was soft. My wife and I planted our vegetable garden, just like we do every year. Tomatoes, squash, cucumbers, peppers, herbs. We set stakes in the ground, layered compost, pulled weeds. We planted new elderberry starts along the fence line and got our new apple trees in the ground. The bees were picked up and placed gently into their hives—buzzing with energy, ready to build. The chicks were moved out of the brooder and into the revamped chicken coop, and the bunnies were upgraded to their grow-out box.
It was busy. It was sweaty. It was satisfying.
And through it all, I kept asking myself: What are we planting in ourselves?
I first wrote about this topic back in 2019. My son was just 3 years old then, barely out of toddlerhood. Now he’s 9. He helps me spread compost. He carries buckets. He asks good questions. He’s starting to understand the connection between work and reward, between seed and fruit. And I’m starting to realize how much of what I plant into him—my words, my example, my prayers—will take root and grow, just like the cucumbers and beans we pushed into the soil last week.
We often treat gardening like it’s only about food. And yeah, that’s part of it. But it’s also about the discipline of cultivation. The art of patience. The constant battle against weeds. That’s what the Church Fathers remind us, too. St. John Climacus talks about the heart like soil—it can grow virtues or vices, depending on what we feed it. Abba Poemen says: “Teach your mouth to say what is in your heart.” But what if what’s in your heart isn’t worth saying?
So we come back to this question: What are you planting in yourself?
Are you planting resentment? Are you watering old grudges? Are you tending your pride, pruning your anger, fertilizing your ego?
Or are you sowing peace? Are you choosing stillness, repentance, mercy? Are you pulling the weeds of judgment and envy?
St. Paul says in Galatians 6:
“Do not be deceived: God is not mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap. For the one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life.”
That verse hits differently when your hands are literally covered in dirt.
On the homestead, I’ve seen firsthand that good planting doesn’t happen by accident. You have to plan it. You have to protect it. You have to show up—even when it’s hot or muddy or frustrating. And spiritual life is no different. We don’t grow in holiness just because we mean to. We grow because we act. Because we dig. Because we water, tend, trim, and guard our hearts.
The early Church saw the garden as a mirror for the soul. The word paradise itself means “walled garden.” And the fall of man? That happened in a garden, too. The Garden of Eden was lost because of disobedience. But the Garden of Gethsemane? That’s where Christ took our disobedience upon Himself. He prayed until He sweat blood. He said, “Thy will be done.”
We plant because we believe in harvest. Even if it’s far off. We tend our gardens—and our hearts—because we believe they’re worth it.
I’ve also learned that every seed planted in the soil has to die before it bears fruit. That’s not just poetic language. That’s biology. The seed breaks open. It decays. And only then does new life push through. Christ said the same thing:
“Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” (John 12:24)
So what needs to die in us? What seeds of pride or selfishness or fear need to be broken open, surrendered, laid down so that something holy can grow in its place?
That’s the question I’m asking myself as I water the apple trees and tuck mulch around the strawberries. I’m not just growing food for the family. I’m growing into something too. Or at least—I hope I am.
Back in 2019, I asked the same questions, but now the soil of my life is different. I’ve been broken in new ways. I’ve seen new blessings. I’ve walked through burnout, failure, and unexpected redemption. My garden isn’t perfect. There are weeds. There are pests. But it’s growing.
So what are you planting?
What’s growing in the soil of your heart?
This week, take time to examine it. Look for signs of life. Pull some weeds. Sow something good. Because someday—we all harvest what we plant.
May it be mercy. May it be truth. May it be Christ.
Thanks for riding along today. This is Ian—the Orthodox Trucker—signing off. Keep your freight tight, and your faith tighter.
Glory to God for all things.
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