When I was a baby my great-grandma died. At the funeral my mom was given a potted plant. She named him Spike. He lived in a corner of our kitchen until I was twenty two years old when he met his demise. Over the course of my and his lifetime, he lived in a few different pots.
As he grew bigger and more beautiful his roots spread out until they ran into the walls of his home. Then my mom would buy a new and bigger pot, uproot Spike from his humble abode, and plant him in the new one.
I imagine that if Spike had thoughts they would go something like this:
“Whoa, whoa! What’s going on? Lori, why are you pulling me out of what I know?”
I am feeling very much like Spike right now. I am in a new place, a new community, a new role. And its weird. It doesn’t feel good sometimes. I miss the familiar.
I can look back over the community pots that God has planted me in throughout my lifetime and see the growth they allowed me to have. Even thought I know in my head that transplantation is beneficial for me I have really resisted it since coming to CGA. I am struggling to trust the most faithful, good Gardener with my care. Been feeling out the walls of this pot like “Hmmm I ain’t so sure about this, Lord.”
Last week someone told me that when you move/replant a tree it looks like it is dieing for the first six months, but then given time to put down roots and dig into the ground beneath it, it starts to bear fruit.
When Spike died it wasn’t because we didn’t water him. And he had enough sunlight. He died because he had outgrown his pot and my mom never moved him into a new one. I don’t know much about plants but as I watched him lose his health, it was like watching something suffocate in slow motion.
I vow that I will not die like Spike.
I will spread out my roots where the Lord has planted me even when it makes no sense.
I will spread out my roots here.
