When living in Texas, I would frequently go to a home supply store on a whim with visions of orchestrating a glorious outdoor escape. Soil, plants and pots would strain the shocks of the vehicle and eventually be unloaded on the driveway. Sometimes, the Lone Start State defeated the young buds while they awaited their destination. Other times their root systems would find their way into a plot of land. Whether things were planted or not, the end result was usually a sparse representation of the blueprint my mind had envisioned. For the flowers that actually resided in the newly plopped soil, their life span rarely extended beyond a month.
You know that phrase people attribute to Albert Einstein about insanity? I am the poster child for one who expects different outcomes despite the reality that doing things the same way will never offer a more rewarding result. Especially with outdoor maintenance and renewal.
Two summers ago, I had a landscaper revamp my yard completely. It was beautiful, lush and enticing. I even had a bubbling rock installed so that I could hear water running throughout the summer.(Admittedly, this was jab at my ex. I had always wanted a water feature in my yard, but the desire was denied throughout our 21 years together. So, I had one installed. As far as I know, the ex has no idea and the jab remains unreceived, but I love the sound of water outside my bedroom window.) The contractor assured me the final product would be low maintenance and return with a flourish each year. I forgot to tell the guy that I do not even rake or mow faithfully. So, for the third summer, the perennials are returning with a little less luster. The new sod of three years ago is in dire need of nutrients and the dead remnants of last summer's growth is vying for space along with the spring rising. It is visibly disappointing. I am sure my neighbors and the HOA are poised to slap me with an infraction if I do not revive my little postage stamp piece of nature.
Today, I set a goal of trimming back the dead growth from two ornamental grasses in my front yard and sweeping the front stoop. It seemed a reasonable plan as I prepared for the day. I even told a colleague about the plan around 11:00. It still reflected an image of manageability at 1:30, but then the respiratory battle of the past two and half weeks began to escalate and the energy level plummeted. While returning home from a productive work day and making a grocery run, the body's message was, "Are you kidding me?" A definitive choice was made at the final stop light. Take the Scarlett O'Hara philosophy and just relax. There was no shaking the drive to plop on the couch for the evening.
Then...
the garage door ascended, the car rolled into its cozy abode, eyes landed on the dead ornamental grass, hands recycled the junk mail and feet led to the clippers, garden gloves and trash can. Groceries remained in the trunk, purse perched on the passenger's seat and car keys jangled in the pants' pocket as I began to clip away. The minor surge of determination that possessed my body was not of my own efforts or design. Holy Spirit?
I know, that is rather crass. However, more frequent little interventions such as this are leading to a sneaking suspicion that God is in everything if the believer is willing to release control.
To what end?
Is there a larger lesson to consider?
Is there a correlation between my midnight black thumbs and life?
I think there might be.
The work completed today in no way keeps the HOA yard police from my door, nor does it offer the little spring warriors sufficient space to spread and delight. Yet, the work is a sign of culling and nurturing. Growth does not occur instantaneously, whether it is within nature or a human. Neither does the process of preparation.
In working out a potential take away, I think God is showing me that MY philosophy of "big picture or nothing" is not working for me. Remember Einstein? My forward motion towards who He designs me to be is more about the journey than the destination. Skipping any leg could lead to regression or a sense of defeat. I have been there before. With each minute intervention to help me obey His minor prodding, He is preparing me for growth. And growth does not mean awaking one morning with an aura and glow that confirms that I am finally complete and perfect. I am beginning to realize it is about observing the infinitesimal modifications and praising my Savior for them.
So, tomorrow I have set another goal.
1. Trim back the dead growth from the ornamental grass plant in the front. (Yup, there is a forgotten third plant that requires tending. I tried to convince myself to go the extra mile, but my mind began to rebel. So, I decided to honor my plan and celebrate the doing of it. Small steps lead to big accomplishments.)
2. Trim back the dead remains of the butterfly plants in the front yard.
3. Be present and watch for His proddings.
I think it might be manageable. Yet, I will still plead that my Father will take control should old habits and mindsets raise their very ugly and determined heads.
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