Devotions

After an absolutely wretched winter, I appreciate the new life in my gardens more this spring than I probably ever have. Not everything survived our subzero weather. We lost six Hydrangea bushes, seven Spirea Magic Carpet shrubs, four Boxwood shrubs, and my Dwarf Burning Bush apparently fed the rabbits. But what we have left is very healthy. The more time I spend working in the gardens to keep them that way, the more I think I could write a devotional book just based on lessons learned from gardening. Jesus talked about being the vine, with us as the branches, and shared the parable about the sower's seed, among other plant-related stories. We've all heard "Stop and smell the roses" and "Bloom where you're planted," but even beyond those, the analogies between gardening and our own lives are obvious: Being uprooted and transplanted is harder for some than others. We have to take root below the surface before we can branch out and really bloom. Weeds, like sin, are easier to remove earlier rather than later. Weeds (sin) grow without even trying, but anything beautiful (fruit of the spirit) requires careful cultivation. When we cut away what's dead, new life can take it's place. Margin is a beautiful thing. Not everything blooms at once. When we dug out the dead Spirea that had been tucked between our spreading yews, I thought it would look empty to have more space. Instead, it looks orderly and calm, like a breath of fresh air. Being on a book deadline, I currently have no margin. Neither does my husband, since he just started grad school on top of his full-time job. And we can both testify to this truth: Margin is a beautiful thing. :) The truth that has given me the most comfort, however, is so simple, it's easy to miss: Not everything blooms at once. Isn't this true in our lives as well? Anyone who says we can "have it all" should remember that even if that were true, we cannot have it all at once. As my grandmother has reminded me, "Life is long, and has many parts." Not everything blooms at once. Right now, with no margin, I am grinding away toward a deadline. This means I have to say no to almost everything else. As much as I love writing, and love the finished product, my process is exhausting, lonely, and fraught with self-doubt. When I look at my garden and see the irises, salvia, and hardy geraniums in bloom, and nothing else, I remember, though, that this is what's blooming in my life right now. (Or maybe I'm planting it now, and the blooming part comes during the editorial stage--work with me. :) ) Generally, at least in the Midwest, blooms don't last long. Already, the white flowers on my crab tree and pear trees have blown away like snow. So the fact that not everything blooms at once gives us more of a chance to anticipate them, and enjoy them as they come. This, too, applies to life. Our seasons are temporary. We would do well to enjoy them as much as we can before they slip away. Well, friends, what's blooming in your life right now? Is it time with your children or grandchildren? An opportunity to minister? A job, or school? It might be something hidden, but still beautiful. What has God brought about for you to enjoy in this particular season? To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace. ~Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 (KJV)