I’ve never had a green thumb. I’ve always wanted to be an amazing gardener because my mama was. I used to love watching her garden when she babysat me as mom and dad were off working. I can remember how beautiful her orchids and roses were. The garden was her pride and joy. Unfortunately, her knack with plants never passed on to me.
Then my husband decided to have a garden when we lived in Portland. At first I made him do all of the work because I didn’t want to kill the plants. I couldn’t stand the thought of being responsible for it. Then it was I didn’t want to harvest the fruits of his labor because my heart hurt too much at the thought of taking the plant apart.
I often sat watching him work on the garden. I told him it was because I wanted to learn. But, it was mostly because it was the first time I ever saw my husband at ease, no guard up, totally at peace with life. And I loved to watch him in that state. It brought me peace knowing the man that I depend on, the man that takes care of our little family, the man that holds everything in was okay. Each day he would talk me through what he was doing. He would have to explain his reasonings because I also wanted to know why. Why did you have to cut that leaf? Why did you have to water them that way? Why do we have to harvest them that way? Why do we have to harvest them at all? He was always the patient man as he taught me to love what he did, to learn what he did, to understand what he did.
Then we moved to this wretched apartment complex because our previous landlord was a psychopath. There was no way to plant our garden so we had to say goodbye. Nearly two years have passed and I am happy to say I have two budding flower bushes – a rose and a gardenia. (Please don’t ask me what specific type. They were both gifts and too beautiful to care.) I was scared to have these bushes because I told him I wanted to be the one to take care of them and I thought I’d kill them. But, good golly, they are alive and thriving.
Today we decided to transplant them into bigger pots because Alice the Gardenia (yes, I named her, as I do all inanimate objects) would let the water run through her immediately after we watered her. Jeremy explained that she is too small for her current pot and the roots have caused her to not retain the water. And so we repotted Alice and Rosalie into pots large enough for them to thrive. As I watched him prep the plants I thought about what he was doing and what we talked about it church today.
Our Pastor spoke about how Mary saw an issue arising at a wedding and leaned on her Son to rectify the problem. She had complete and utter faith in Jesus as He performed His first miracle. As Pastor Dave closed he offered up the sinner’s prayer to anyone who wanted to accept Christ into his heart. I’ve been a Christian for eighteen years but I never refuse to say the sinner’s prayer. And it wasn’t until I watched my husband delicately handling Alice that I understood that God has transplanted my life as well.
You see, to transplant is to remove from one place and plant in another. When I offered my life eighteen years ago to God I, like Mary, put my faith in God, put my life in His hands. I was heading down a wrong path and when I said that sinner’s prayer so many years ago got transplanted me from a pot of darkness to a pot of hope. It felt like I cheated the system because with a single prayer I went from a dark time in my life to a life of possibilities, of healing, of peace. God uprooted me, took me out of despair and rooted me into a life of faith.
I was humbled as I came to realize how blessed I am because of that Godly transplant. God has given me the chance to grow, to dig deeper roots in His word and to have utter and complete faith in Him that He would take care of me. Pastor Dave reminded us today that God wants us to be filled with joy. He continued to explain that God wants us to know that His grace is more than we need. And that is when I realized that I didn’t come this far to only come this far. I didn’t come this far to let my past, my sins, my shortcomings destroy what God has intended me to have. I have the strength to overcome my hurt and pain even when it doesn’t feel like it. I don’t have to go through this alone, with God the darkness has to go. And that is what I cling to, the fact that though I am not strong enough to push the darkness back, He is.
God can if you let Him.
Happy Sunday night, y’all. Hope you have an amazing week! xoxo