I spent the weekend working in the yard and sprucing up my garden. I just love being outside surrounded by sun and life.
My youngest has an assortment of things he’s randomly picked up at the nursery and planted here and there over the years. He calls them his “special memory flowers”. What a lover, right?
There’s one plant, an annual that blooms bright pink, that is especially guarded.
When we moved three years ago, he dug it up from the garden at our old house and transplanted it here in the new garden. It hasn’t been trimmed back since, because he never wants to cut it.
Whenever I’m out there cleaning things up, he’ll always find me and say, “Don’t cut mine, Mom.”, as he doesn’t want to damage it or lose any of the branches that hold lovely pink flowers.
It doesn’t really grow at all.
It’s been the same size since we’ve moved here three years ago. It blooms, but the few branches it has are sort of limp. They’ve grown up, but not out.
I found an old journal on my bookshelf.
It’s a gorgeous, neglected hard cover book filled with blank pages that beg for words.
I have journaling ADD and often fill a journal only a quarter of the the way before another shiny object of journaling affection grabs my attention. This particular journal was barely filled.
As part of my new goal to be more diligent in my prayer life, I decided to dust it off and get writing.
I ripped out the pages preceding the fresh lines.
In with the old, out with the new.
I was shocked at the amount of time that has passed since the date on the first page.
Many of the prayers and thoughts I wrote about then, could be my prayers and thoughts on this very morning.
What a bold reminder of my walk, my faith, my time.
There are areas of my life where I haven’t really grown.
I’ve stayed the same.
I bloom, but the few branches I have are sort of limp. They’ve grown up, but not out.
I decided to trim back the branches on my son’s annual.
Even though I know he’ll be devastated to see his flowers gone and the branches freshly cut and exposed, the plant needed it.
As I trimmed the branches that held bright pink blooms and tossed them in the garbage can, I was a little sad. I know that when he sees his plant, he’s going to ask why.
Why would I cut his favorite plant?
I’ll have to explain like I have a thousand times before.
If we want it to grow, baby, we have to trim it back.
I’ll tell him that new flowers will bloom on fresh branches.
He won’t see them for a while, but they’ll come.
I’m learning to accept the branches that my Heavenly Father has trimmed back in my life.
Even though I’m devastated, freshly cut, and exposed, I needed it.
He’ll have to explain to me like He has a thousand times before.
If you want to grow, sweet child, I have to trim you.
He’ll promise new flowers on fresh branches.
I won’t see them for a while, but I know they’ll come.
EDIT: April 16, 2014. (The morning this post was originally posted.)
I walked out back today, and look what I found…
God is SO good!
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