I knelt on the side of the raised garden bed pulling the weeds from the moist ground. My hair whipped in my face; I should have pulled it back before my hands got dirty. The spring afternoon sun warmed my back and shoulders, reminding me that winter was really, truly gone from Ohio.

I am one of the few that enjoy pulling weeds. The dirt under my fingernails, the excuse to be outside in the sun, the time to be alone and think. As I pulled the weeds in the strawberry bed I thought about how our sins are like weeds.