What I’ve Learned from Houseplants
(I know, I know, everyone who starts gardening makes theological connections. But if you’ve grown even one plant, you understand why.)
In December 2016, I bought some air plants for our anniversary. I hung them in glass globes in the living room and misted them every week. They are notoriously hard to kill, which is what I needed since I’ve killed every single plant I’ve ever owned, including the love fern that we bought when we lived in the apartment. (Name that movie!)
In the months following, I kept adding one cheap plant (no need to waste that money, after all) after another. Succulents. Vines. Things I no longer know the names of. Every single Monday I still write water plants in my planner, gather them all into the kitchen, and water away.
(A friend pointed out that some plants don’t need watered every week. I told her that mine get watered every week and they like it.)
Last week, I finally repotted some of them. The dirt on the top of the plants was hard and packed down. The pots were tiny. I knew they needed more room and new dirt if they were going to grow. After the boys went to bed I got to work on the back porch, loosening the root balls and setting them in larger containers.
As I looked at how the roots had curled around and around in the cramped spaces I realized they couldn’t have grown much more. There was practically more root than dirt in some of them. And I thought about how the space and dirt was just what they needed.
Sometimes we need new space, bigger space. If you’re like me, you like the space you have because you are used to it. It’s comfortable space. It feels like home. You don’t have to pull apart any tightly twined roots to settle into new space. But you can’t grow anymore when you’ve outgrown your space.
God moves us to new spaces. Sometimes it looks like an opportunity, an offer. Sometimes it’s a physical move. Almost always it means leaving behind something that is comfortable and easy. I find that hard to do even if I know that better things are ahead. I’m practicing saying yes and trusting Him anyway. Of course, there’s risk. I’m well aware that my plants may react poorly to being moved. I moved them anyway.
Bigger space doesn’t mean cleaner space though. God plants us back in dirt. Dirt is messy. It’s, well, dirt after all, not porcelain or soft blankets. It mixes with water and makes mud. It falls out of pots (or gets dug out with tiny fingers) and makes a mess. It streaks over clothes and porches and I spend a lot of time cleaning up dirt. We often find ourselves plopped down in bigger places with more dirt: more problems, more challenges, more people. That’s how it works.
The last thing I did was line up the pots on the porch step and water them. Since we were outside I let the water spray over the leaves and knock off any extra dirt and then I soaked the new dirt. Water makes things grow. Sunshine is more fun though, right? I prefer a sunny day, especially with the kids. I don’t mind a rainy, stormy day for myself, especially if I can curl up in a corner and read, but if there are kids to entertain or work to do, I’d like some sunshine.
Often when we get the new opportunity, we find a lot of dirt and storms. It’s not all sunshine; things don’t work out perfectly. That’s life. It’s how we grow. I’m learning that walking the path God has for me doesn’t mean that things will always be sunny. It doesn’t mean that everything will be smooth. I have to trust that God picked the right new pot for me though and keep putting down the roots.
I’m not much of a gardener. My dad and my mother-in-law both are fantastic with plants. They can grow anything, anywhere. I’m experimenting with these house plants (I truly do love them. They are beautiful and so full of life!) and maybe one day, when I have more time, I can even manage a flowerbed or two. But God is a master. He can cultivate all His plants at once, never neglecting a single thing.
He is trustworthy, even in the discomfort and the dirt and the rain.
