I am not a gardener.
Never have been, don’t think I ever will be. My husband accuses me of having two black thumbs.
I do get a little bit of pleasure out of planting a few flowers, but I hate weeding. And don’t ask me to pick vegetables! (Strawberries, maybe, once every few years.)
So imagine my surprise when I found myself almost enjoying the morning ritual of watering our new landscaping plants. Even more, I feel pride and joy now that the plants are blooming and even attracting hummingbirds.
We also planted a few replacement trees this year. The bare-root kind that look like dead sticks when you plant them. Most of them have thrived and are leafing out. But three or four have shown no sign of life. Until this morning.
I noticed several tiny green leaflets poking out near the base of these seemingly hopeless sticks. After weeks of hauling water–the trees are too far from the house to reach with the garden hose–there may be hope for them.
It occurs to me that maybe Jesus feels that way about us sometimes. He’s watching and waiting and, perhaps, watering our life with blessings. And we muddle through each day, doing what we have to do but not showing any growth. Essentially, showing no more life than dead sticks.
Then, one day, the Holy Spirit moves us to take action. We trust our problems to God, we tell someone else about His goodness, we serve others out of love, we get serious about living according to His plans for us. I think, when that happens, God is pleased. He is thrilled to see signs of “life” (His life) in our lives.
And that makes me want to keep growing. For Him.