The Bloodline of the Garden

By Josh Singleton | Founder, The Neighborhood Garden Project

Before anyone picks a tomato or pulls a carrot out of the ground, before the shared meals and the smiles around the harvest, there’s something that has to be in place first—water.

Not just water, but a way to get it where it needs to go, in a steady and thoughtful way. In our gardens, drip irrigation does that. It’s what keeps everything alive when no one’s around. It frees up our time and hands, not just for cultivation, but for being with people.

We installed our first full irrigation system back in May 2022. It wasn’t a huge project, but it was a big decision. We knew it wasn’t just about watering plants. It was about making room. Room to show up for people. Room to focus on the parts of the work that matter most.

Looking back now, two years later, we can clearly see the impact. That quiet choice—something most people will never notice—ended up helping us grow far more than food. It gave us time, consistency, and peace of mind. And in this kind of work, that’s everything.

Putting in underground water lines might not seem like much to most people. But for us, it was a big deal. It wasn’t about showing off good planning or clever systems—it was about being available. We weren’t trying to impress anyone. We were trying to make space.

The world tends to celebrate what you can see. But in the garden, it’s often the hidden things that matter most. These buried water lines are what keep the whole thing going. They free us up to be with people instead of being tied up with a hose. Every minute we’re not running around trying to water by hand is a minute we can give to someone who needs it.

We always say The Neighborhood Garden Project is about people, not just plants. But the truth is, they go together. You can’t take care of people well if the garden isn’t cared for, and you can’t care for the garden without thinking about the people who are part of it. So even something like irrigation becomes part of the ministry—it helps make everything else possible.

At our first garden, we’ve got seven timers running the drip lines. That might not sound exciting, but those little timers are what keep the roots healthy. They water each bed right at the base of the plant, exactly where it needs it.

It’s consistent. It’s steady. It works. It gives us margin. It lets us be present with people.

I can’t count how many early mornings I’ve stood in the garden talking with someone—sometimes a college student figuring out who they are, or a mom trying to catch her breath. We talk about life, about what they’re walking through. And right in the middle of it, I hear the click. The water system turning on.

Then the sound of the air pushing out of the lines. It’s small, but it reminds me something’s happening underneath. The garden is being taken care of while I’m taking care of someone else. That sound always hits me—it’s like the garden itself is breathing.

Over time, I’ve come to see it as a picture of how God works. Quiet, steady, always moving—right under the surface. Most people never notice it. But it’s what keeps everything alive.

This system has become one of the best decisions we’ve made. It doesn’t pull us away from people—it frees us to be with them. That’s what preparation does. We laid those lines ahead of time so we’d have more to give when people show up.

To me, it’s like the Spirit. Always flowing, always present, even when no one notices. The garden reminds me of that all the time. And I think that’s why it works. We didn’t just plant vegetables. We built a place for people to grow, too.

And sometimes, the simplest things—like water lines in the ground—are the ones that end up mattering the most.