The Work of Being Freshly Planted

Gardening is both fun and hard work. Our corn is coming in, which for some reason, is the most entertaining to me. At least one of everything we’ve planted is visible above the surface, or more specifically, the plant of each type. We’ve not yet reached the harvest season.

Last year, we built a raised bed, and this year, we expanded to add another piece of the yard that we hoed and did our best to prepare before planting. While we anticipated this, it’s very clear that the new bed is not yet fully cultivated. The battle between weeds and intentional plants is underway, and we shall see which wins out in the end.

It reminded me of the Parable of the Sower in Mark 4 where seeds are planted in all kinds of places, but only the good soil allows the seeds to take root and thrive. 

Freshly planted seeds and plants are more susceptible to losing the battle with weeds. They have not yet had a chance to get established and grow deep roots, which makes them more vulnerable. As a result, these plants require more work, protection, and consistent oversight.

The same is true of new believers.

When someone accepts Christ, they have made the greatest decision they will ever make, but they also become a target for the enemy. That is why community and discipleship is so important. We always need these things, but especially so when we are baby Christians, growing our roots into God’s Word, and getting established. We need more experienced believers to work with us, protect us, and watch over us in our early days to help us say yes to the Spirit and no to the world. We need someone to do the work of guiding us through the freshly planted season.

Plants and believers, gardens and the kingdom. They’re really not so different.

So, do you have community and discipleship in your world?

Cultivate

While I have become known for my love and appreciation of plants, this was not always part of my reality. I used to get no pleasure out of seeing a houseplant and the one succulent I had in my care was accidentally knocked off a windowsill….multiple times if my memory serves me correctly.

Since getting engaged, something shifted. I’ve wondered if the symbolism of my engagement ring diamonds being arranged like a flower (this was a surprise) was the catalyst to my being inclined toward my leafy friends. 

Regardless, being an enthusiast and student of plants has shaped my life in ways ranging from new connections to the Creator to the abundance of lessons I’ve gleaned over the past five years.

This year marks the first year of being a true gardener. We have gone through the process of growing seedlings indoors, transferring them outside, preparing soil at length, and planting seeds directly in the ground. 

Cultivate.

That’s the word I’ve had in my mind and feel the Lord has given me in this season. Liam, our two-year-old, has even been part of the process. He put a number of seeds in the ground as we planted and helped with a few seedlings. It’s brought me tremendous joy (and yes, the occasional degree of exasperation that comes with the hazard of a toddler around fragile plants) to have him be part of the process.

Cultivate.

As I look forward to seeing how the garden changes from day to day, I’m also working on cultivating a little life in my womb. At 25 weeks, it’s a delight to be experiencing growth within my own body paralleled with the plant life in our yard.

Cultivate.

I’ve been acquiring, writing, listing, remembering, and savoring plant lessons for years. While I’ve had intentions of putting those thoughts into a more compact package meant to share with others, it’s become clear to me that a missing link was the garden. Having a season of really toiling and cultivating a garden will round out some of my horticultural experience that has been lacking.

I look forward to seeing how this shapes my interaction with plants. Growing the garden with my little family (which is also growing!) is so gratifying, especially when my little garden helper sprays himself with the hose while wearing a bucket hat.

Here’s to a season devoted to the word cultivate.

Hosta Resurgence

Our yard is thriving right now. All the bushes are at their flowering best and everything’s turning that delicious bright green that promises new growth and life. 

Among these visual delights are also the return of things like crocuses, daffodils, and hostas. 

It is hostas that have captured my particular attention recently. 

There is something hearty and sturdy about them. They’re nothing if not resilient because they completely disappear over winter and emerge once again in spring. Many plants do the same thing, but hostas really make you believe they will never show up again. Once they do, however, they do so exceptionally rapidly, it’s a wonder to see how things change even from one day to the next. 

Nature and the world revolve around seasons. Some seasons leave one wishing to be able to keep things exactly as they are, whereas others provide a sense of relief to shed unwanted burdens. 

It seems more focus is left to what we want to part with rather than what we hope to keep.

Hostas are a reminder that some things are worth keeping, and just like a once favorite song, they may not be seen constantly, but when they re-emerge, it’s a lovely example that there are indeed things worth keeping. (This feels reminiscent of how so many of our generation can break into a coordinated dance at the first few notes of the song “Bye Bye Bye”...a worthy keepsake.)

Sometimes we all need to be reminded of the hopes, dreams, and lessons that have been dormant, only to be brought back to the surface by some natural rhythms. 

Resurgence can be defined as “an increase or revival after a period of little activity, popularity, or occurrence.”

Hostas, in particular, are an excellent reminder of what resurgence looks like.

The hosta resurgence. 

An example worth following and a reminder worth having.

Called to the Creator

God is creative.

He’s also kind, compassionate, and sovereign. 

He’s so many things and remarkably, He chose to create us. 

I think this is why I find myself feeling more aware of His presence and more connected to Him when I’m in nature. It’s as if the created status in me connects with that which has also been created to draw me closer to my Creator. 

Even more extraordinary, He made us to be able to create and participate within His creation. Perhaps this is why I have such an affinity with plants. I have no real control or ability to claim I made a plant grow or created the plant. Sure, I can provide the ideal settings, seed depth, frequency of watering, and necessary light, in other words, participate, but in the end, I cannot make the seed sprout to reveal and create a plant. I participate in and trust in the Creator to help the plant grow.

In all of these musing, it’s been a particular joy to begin planting the seeds of a garden this spring. I started with 72 pods and after two days of planting, was able to see some growth. It brought me an insane amount of gratification and joy. Even a matter of hours yielded new growth over these past few weeks. 

Creation calls to the created to reconnect with the Creator. 

I do not know what that looks like for you, but when I listen and yield to that calling, He is there waiting on the other end.

To the Soil Tender

Do you ever rediscover songs you used to listen to and feel like you’re hearing them for the first time again?

Almost two years ago, around the time our son, Liam, was born and the world was in quarantine, a friend of ours sent the song “Springtime” by Chris Renzema as an encouragement (thanks Jessy!).

I listened to it on repeat. Given I was breastfeeding at the time, let’s just say I had plenty of time for the message to sink in on a deep level.

For some reason, two years later, it’s come back to my awareness and resonates on such a profound level.

Something about this winter made me feel like my brain was hibernating. As different flowers and plants have bloomed, it seems like my brain is receiving them as a signal, an alarm clock, to wake back up and rejoin the land of the living. I truly feel like I’m coming out of a bit of a fog and the combination of new life in the plants and sunshine has really been working for me. 

So has “Springtime.”

We will sing a new song

'Cause death is dead and gone with the winter

We will sing a new song

Let "hallelujahs" flow like a river

We're coming back to life

Reaching towards the light

Your love is like springtime

Like springtime

Come tend the soil

Come tend the soil of my soul

And like a garden 

And like a garden I will grow

I will grow

I will grow

I will grow

Come tend the soil

Come tend the soil of my soul

And like a garden 

And like a garden I will grow

I will grow

I will grow

I will grow

I’m honestly not sure why I forget how much I like spring. If you asked me right now, biased though the circumstances are, I would absolutely say it’s my favorite. It’s just so darn hopeful, and let’s not forget about the abundance of plants!

Perhaps that is why the lyrics have felt impactful. They’ve put language to something I’ve been reminded of lately. Springtime this year has felt like a waking back up to life, or perhaps, waking up to a brand new season. His love is the same way. The revelation of Jesus and His death on the cross, when understood and accepted, truly is like waking up to something new. 

Your love is like springtime, indeed.

I feel something new brewing. I have some guesses, but really, I’m just expectant. The Lord seems to be moving and shifting some things within me, so I look forward to seeing the seeds that are planted.

To the soil tender, I’m ready.

Holy Garden

Our yard went from no garden to full garden structure with plants in the ground over the course of a week. 

It was wild.

We spent several nights after dark, with phone flashlights on, getting eaten alive by mosquitos to make it happen before we went out of town.

In retrospect, getting the motivation to make that happen sooner would have been more ideal, but there’s just been a lot going on. Summer, am I right?

The entire process was very fun (and exhausting). Thinking through where to erect the structure in the yard, how big, and my favorite, figuring out the configuration of where to put the plants was no small task. 

Some plants are excellent buddies and some are very much not.

For instance, watermelons and squash are not friends, but strawberries and thyme are. Sorting through all that for the first time was so much fun! (Granted, I’m sure we have a lot to learn.)

Plants continue to be therapeutic for me and a way I learn more about the Lord. 

There’s something incredibly holy about a garden. And no, I don’t mean the holes bugs can leave behind as they munch through leaves. I’m talking about how it all started in a garden.

Do you think God spent time configuring it so each of the plants could thrive? I do, and goodness knows I would love the blueprint of Eden for creating our next garden. 

Jesus was also buried in a garden. Mary mistook him for the gardener before he said her name. 

There’s something to all of this. 

Either way, I am jazzed to hopefully be harvesting some vegetables and fruit in the next little while. Our big producers right now are the mint, oregano, tomatoes, and blueberries. (I use the word “big” rather loosely.) 

I intend to give the Lord space to speak with each encounter I have in the garden because, again, it feels holy to be in and cultivate a garden. 

Happy growing to my fellow gardeners out there!

With This Ring...

There was a large tree in our backyard that was dying. It was clear. There was a wound on one side of the bottom of the trunk which continued to grow.

Death was a when not an if. 

We decided that keeping our roof intact was worth saying goodbye to this otherwise wonderful tree. Shocking, I know. Sounds obvious, but it was sad to have to choose to cut down a tree of its size.

It was massive. How old was it? How many residents of the house had it known?

After our tree friend was dismantled branch by branch and then chunk by chunk, all that remained was a low stump. The rings inside were exposed.

Each ring tells a story about the tree. Some are thicker than others. Circumstances and the environment have an impact on what each ring looks like. 

The cross-section gave a glimpse into a lifetime.

So it is with us. Each year we live adds another ring to our story. Some are robust, full of abundance and celebration. Others are lacking, showing signs of weathering some storms. Some rings we want to remember because of the sweetness they held. Others we want to forget, move on, and, if it were possible, remove.

Either way, each year, or ring, is part of the makeup of who we are.

So, the Lord has given us a ring. We are currently living through the celebrations and circumstances which contribute to the character of the ring and this chapter of our story. 

With this ring…

How would you complete the sentence? How have you seen the Lord be faithful? What’s been hard? 

Regardless, it’s a ring we’ve been given. Let’s do our best to wear it well.

Sun Stretch

Have you ever noticed how plants position themselves to get to the sun? They’ll stretch out, grow at odd angles, and even not be as strong just to get the life-giving rays. 

They cannot resist the need to be in the light, so they engage in a sun stretch.

This light is, of course, from the sun, and the idea brought me to the realization there is much to learn about the holiness of God through our interaction with the sun. Psalm 99 helped me make the connection.

The sun is so bright it cannot be stared at directly. We can close our eyes, turn away, put on sunglasses, or go inside.

Regardless, it is us who makes a change in that moment, not the sun.

God’s holiness is such that it’s too much for us to fully see, but He invites us to be with Him. Our sin may cause us to turn away from the life-giving light, but the option to return, to let go of the sin to be with the Holy One is always there.

The sun provides life to us on the planet. It gives us warmth, sets our rhythms, helps plants grow. It’s also far enough removed that it doesn’t scorch us. The delicate balance of our atmosphere keeps us protected.

So it is with our belief in Jesus. He stands in the gap and shields us from the magnitude of God’s holiness by making it possible for us to survive. Without His sacrifice in our place, we would be scorched.

We would actually not be able to survive in God’s presence.

As it stands, we are able to enjoy the benefit of the sun. We can be in awe of the sunrises and sunsets. We can be enamored with God and just how holy He is, knowing it would not be possible without Jesus.

I want to be like a plant in that I will grow and stretch and will not rest until I get to the light. I want my new growth to bring me closer to Him, much like plants get taller as they grow.

Being in the presence of the Holy God is just as necessary for me as the sun is to plants. 

So, let’s do a sun stretch and get to the light, whatever it takes.

Growing Plants, Growing Humans

The plant parent craze is alive and well.

It rings true that the plant lady is the new cat lady.

To be honest, as far as trends go, this one feels like it has far more positives than negatives associated with it. What a win.

I’m a mom of one son and countless plant children.

It’s gotten me thinking about the similarities between kids and plants.

There’s the obvious in that they have to be intentionally cared for, fed, and watered. They need the right kind of attention and environment. Each kid or type of plant has different needs.

More than that, their growth happens before our very eyes.

New growth on plants is the brightest. Just look around in the spring and summer seasons and you’ll notice portions of plants that are brighter than the rest. The new growth stands out.

The same is true for kids, especially babies and toddlers. I can tangibly see differences in my son.

He’s starting to very clearly respond to instruction and takes great pleasure in “put that back,” “close that please,” and “go find your books.” 

We’ve also ushered in the walking season. He is taking increasingly longer journeys on his feet before resorting to crawling. Walking is slow, crawling is fast.

Much like we notice that bright green growth on plants, the new skill or development stands out and is focused on the most in that moment.

So really, plants and babies are the exact same.

OK, well, they do have some similarities. Regardless, proud plant mom and even prouder human mom over here.

Just Call Me a Plant

Rain has been coming in abundance recently and with it, new growth. 

I’m not sure what it is about spring this year, but seeing all the new buds has given me an immense amount of hope and joy.

New life. New season.

Maybe I should consider getting one of those “happy lights” for wintertime because I seem to be so dependent on the sun. Even with the rain, spring has more sunshine, and I am THRIVING with it!

Just call me a plant.

At any rate, I was walking around checking out some of the new plants we put in over the past few weeks to see how they’re coming along and noticed a bush without visible flowers yet. It had the remnants of a recent rain in the form of evenly spaced droplets of water.

The pattern caught my attention.

Upon investigating further, I noticed that where a water droplet clung to the branch, there too was the beginnings of a bud.

The water gravitated to and was positioned to support the new life. 

The small lesson in this, for me, was to recognize that new life is delicate. It requires more attention and resources to really stabilize.

Babies are that way. So are new believers. 

I learn so many lessons from my plant friends, and I’m grateful to be back in a season where I see them visibly showing signs of new life.

Anyone else?

New Growth

Have you ever looked at the new growth of plants when it reveals itself in the springtime? 

It’s usually lighter in color than the rest of the plant. 

That seems significant, and I love it.

The new growth seems to be saying, “Hey, look at me, take notice, I’m new here. And being new makes me more vulnerable and fragile. Please take good care of me.”

This leads to a challenge: care for the new growth with extra attention but do not forget to attend to the rest of the plant as well.

It’s the same way in many instances of life. If we’re working towards personal growth in something, it can lead to a neglect in other areas of our lives. Or if you’re a parent, having a new child to care for, because of the neediness of babies, can lead to less attention going toward the older child. Or maybe it’s a new relationship. How often have we seen people so focused on their new dating relationship that they neglected friendships?

I’m not suggesting that the attention to the new growth should not happen. It’s necessary and good. For a season. 

If you’ll notice, the new growth does not stay brighter for long. It joins the rest of the plant in a more balanced interaction eventually. 

So let us pursue balance. Let us give the new the attention it needs and deserves and remember to limit that to a season. 

But also, let’s celebrate those new things! They will only be new for a short time, and, indeed, they are worth celebrating.