Wednesday, May 16, 2018

In which I am not the gardener but the one being "gardened"...

This past Sunday (Mother's Day) I requested to spend some hours by myself. I am incredibly blessed to have a husband who doesn't panic or check in on me when I take these mental health days. Its taken me a couple of Mother's Day's to be ok with requesting to be AWAY from the ones who call me mom on the very day us mother's as a whole are being honored.  Mostly, no entirely due to the fact that there are mother's in the world who choose to be with their brood on this sacred day.  In fact, OUR children were given to us by their biological mothers which means I should treasure them always and forever and everything they do is magic 100% of their days.  Yeah no.  Oftentimes I'd think there was something wrong with me because I simply wanted silence and to go wherever the wind took me.  As long as the wind knew to take me somewhere quiet.  The wind has honored that request.  The wind can be trusted.  I love the wind.  To be honest?  It's OUR day, so we should be able to shake off the nagging voice of comparison and celebrate however WE want to celebrate, yes?  Yes.  I woke up, was greeted with hugs, a delightful breakfast, a new journal and homemade cards.  Then...the world was my oyster.  I popped in on Jashawn's soccer game real quick and met a friend for an early movie, lunch and extended, uninterrupted conversation. Blessed assurance Jesus is mine.  Upon my arrival home to grab a couple of books and my computer I was surprised to find that it was empty.  Tyler had taken the kids over to his parents house for a few hours.  Because my mama didn't raise no fool, I dared not leave this perfectly quiet house of mine!  Can I get an amen?!  Is there anything more fantastic than being in your own home completely by yourself for the sole purpose of relaxing?!  I digress.  Pals, I love working in the yard.  I love it so much that Tyler bought me a weed trimmer for our anniversary last year and it was in my top five favorite anniversary gifts.  At this juncture my desire to work in my flower beds could only be matched by Moana's desire to disobey her parents and follow her naughty grandma's advice and sail the open seas!  So I did it.  For nearly four straight hours I planned, uprooted, split plants, relocated, weeded, and replanted.  At the end I stood there sweaty, dirty hands on my hips, looking forward to the next couple of weeks when I get to see if the changes I implemented actually worked.  Which ones will thrive?  Which ones will straight up die?  Which ones will just be like "meh, I liked my other place better"?  It was satisfying and such a release of stress.  There were hard parts for sure like splitting the roots of a couple of larger plants, heck even digging them up was hard because of the depth of growth!
Fast forward a few days later (ahem today) and I'm finally having a chance to use the new journal the kids gifted me.  Every day it provides you with a passage from the Bible to read and then a blank page to write down any thoughts you're having about what you just read.  It's called Write the Word.  It's not dated, there isn't any devotional attached to it, it's just a chunk of verses for you to look up, one place to write what you're grateful for and that's it!  Ecclesiastes 3:1-8.  I read it.  I've read it before and heard it discussed many times.  "For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;" SAY WHAT?!  I love planting and reaping the benefits!  How inspiring I think to myself!  Isn't this just perfect timing!  I'm planting seeds as a mother and wife, I'm planting seeds for myself personally, I'm planting seeds as it relates to my Rodan + Fields business, I'm really such an efficient planter!  I started writing in my journal "At this point in my life I sense that right now I'm planting like vs. 2 says and hopefully soon I'll be able to pluck up what is planted."  For the next few sentences I wrote about the process of picking the correct place, depth, and time of year to plant.  Preparing the ground ahead of time too.  Then I felt a shift in my role as "dedicated planter" to "the plant that needs relocating". In the end the Lord was showing me that my time in this particular spot was not serving me well.  Maybe the environment around my spot in the garden had changed.  Truly all it would take is the removal of a light blocking tree.  But what if the issue was me needing to be split? I've overgrown my spot in the garden.  Splitting plants is hard, tedious work!  It sometimes can look like a very gentle coaxing of separating the roots while whispering sweet nothings into its ear until it willingly disengages from its safe haven. On the flip side (and what my process looked like on the third gigantic plant I was splitting last Sunday) it can also involve some cursing, stabbing a shovel into the root base, and contemplating replanting it in the exact same spot because it just wouldn't give!  Until it did.  The stabbing, and twisting and pulling paid off.  Good, strong, solid roots but a less than ideal spot in the garden.  I had done ok in my garden spot for so long, my roots deep in the soil but what more could I be if I allowed myself to be replanted?  Once you move past the difficult task of actually splitting the plant the hard work doesn't end there.  It must be cared for even more, its state fragile and in need of more soil, more water, and sunlight.  Being sure to take notice of its changes good and bad.
This is how my Father cares for me.  Noticing the changes of my growth, constantly aware of whether or not the place He planted me is still best. Providing the perfect amount of sunlight and rain.  Bringing me thru drought and cold. Asking me to trust when He moves, and my friends He WILL move, that no one knows me better and no one celebrates my growth more than He does.  I must trust in His tending. After all, He's the one that picked THIS garden and prepared THIS soil for me in the first place.  




No comments:

Post a Comment