Anyone who knows me will roll their eyes or chuckle at the thoughts of me keeping a plant alive. I love plants in every shape, size or form. I love my view from my front porch: trees of oak, elm, maple, poplar,dogwoods, tall pines, spruce; and rhododendron, ferns, wild azaleas, a jungle of mountain laurel. Some plants in view are domesticated and special treasures to me like the hydrangea that are cuttings from the plants that grew beside my Granny Jo’s front porch or the rose bushes my mother gave me at the birth of one of my sons.
I think I am one
of those people who was made to admire beauty, but I feel quite inept to bring
it about. So I express my admiration of it, then here and there dabble in a bit
of myself, but the plants . . . well it is a sad story indeed. I have even killed cacti. Yet in the midst of
my great failings there is room for grace; hope springs eternal. I am inspired that
the woods around me prosper and grow without a second thought from me. It is
gorgeous. The more domesticated versions suffer from lack of attention and
point to the importance of daily care. So it is with people. My husband used to tease
me: “Honey did you feed and water the children today?” He was only partly
kidding. ;-) I tend to be swept away by
projects and “to do” lists and forget the slow, steady pace that builds a
peaceful home. It is one thing for
plants to whither, but hearts are another thing altogether. I may be a plant killer, but my passion is
caring for people. I might not feed them on time, but I do chase down their hearts and strive to shepherd their thought back to hope and forgiveness.
Despite my
repeated failure, plants give me hope. Hope from my mother who continues to give me plants that
can practically survive on their own. She tells me :You can't kill this if you tried." Somehow I manage to kill it without trying. Hope, that at the
same time, she continues to give me plants that need at least a little bit of special care knowing that
I might full well fail again. She knows I will admire the beauty while it
lasts, and maybe, just maybe this time I will succeed. She does not give up on me. I did not inherit her green thumb, but I did
learn at her feet that people are a lot like plants. They each need their own
brand of TLC to grow and prosper and bear fruit.
My own ray of hope is a shamrock
plant she gave me years ago. She bought herself one at the same time,and let's just say hers is a mass of green, spilling over a beautiful woven basket on a stand. Let's just say that mine is n-o-t. I can’t
tell you how many times mine has died. By all appearances, it’s as dead as a
door nail. No green to be seen; yet I water it and set it on the window sill. Then it happens . . . over and over again; when
I least expect it, there’s a tiny sprout that in a few days is a sprig and a
few days more a lanky strand of shamrock.
In a few more days, there will be more sprouts.
Sadly, I will get busy and the
tender shoots will likely whither from my negligence.
I hate that, but I don’t let it get me down. Sometimes my children encourage me to just throw it out, but I tell them that I never give up . . . on people, dreams or shamrocks. It reminds me that there is hope, that it is
never too late to start again despite the sorrow, loss or even devastation It’s the same with people and dreams. In the
darkest moments there is a kernel of life. In death there is life. What a mystery! What a beautiful mess!
Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. Romans 5: 1-4
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Wow! That was powerful!
ReplyDeleteMy favorite lines:
Sometimes my children encourage me to just throw it out, but I tell them that I never give up . . . on people, dreams or shamrocks. It reminds me that there is hope, that it is never too late to start again despite the sorrow, loss or even devastation It’s the same with people and dreams. In the darkest moments there is a kernel of life.
Thanks for sharing your perspective from your front porch!