The tree my mom brought over was a little shoot of a thing. My instant gratification nature failed to properly appreciate it. I didn't even plant it, she did..... You see, I don't have nearly enough natural patience to appreciate the process that is growth..... She gathered the children, dug a shallow hole and buried its roots. She challenged me to water it so that it could properly take hold of its new home and the earth around it. I didn't.... I forgot about it completely.
Until it grew. It grew and grew and grew. Within just a few seasons it was nearly as tall as me. I know, I'm vertically challenged so it doesn't seem such a feat. But that little tree finally had my attention. It survived with my lack of appreciation, lack of nourishment, lack of care. It took hold and grew strong and tall and full, and it became obvious that we needed to move the little tree, to a place a bit more visible and a place further from the house.
We moved the tree to the other side of the yard. My husband dug and I helped replace the dirt in the hole. We'd always wanted a tree in that spot.... It seemed bare and empty, and just like it was wanting a tree to take root. While planting the tree last fall my neighbor stopped by to give us some friendly advice. He mentioned that the family who'd lived here previously had always tried to grow a tree in that very spot and never succeeded. (Thanks for that unsolicited vote of confidence, buddy.) All of the sudden I wanted that tree to grow. To grow and grow and grow some more. (For those of you who don't know I take doubt as an opportunity to succeed whenever possible.)
We watered that sucker.... we bought this plant food and religiously fed it. Maybe we over fed it.... I'm not sure, but that sturdy little tree wilted up and died.... It was really sad. I had just learned to appreciate it, just started to really want it, and it was gone. Plus I had really wanted it to grow as a monument that would stand tall and proud right on the corner "THE LARSON'S CAN GROW A TREE". I guess I was imagining that's what it would silently say....
Instead it was silently advertising failure. A sad little washed up attempt, it's last wrinkled leaves fell to the ground it the tree stood naked and bare and hard. A crisp brittle tallish wisp of missed opportunity. I imagined my neighbor felt the proper mix of pride and pity. That stung a little.
I really wanted my husband to just dig the thing up. After all, every time I walked outside or pulled up it seemed to be this monument solidifying "THE LARSON'S ARE AWESOME AT KILLING THINGS." It sat there all winter. Four months of brittle deadness. We couldn't even properly bury our failure.
My kids and I are trying an experiment. A friend shared with me that if you put the bottom of a celery bunch in water, it will bloom again. I figured that we had nothing to loose, so instead of pitching that last part I cut it even and stuck it in a bowl of water.... That was three weeks ago.
That little plant started to grow the very next day. No lie.... it was even one day and had a protrusion the next... and then another, and the next thing I knew it had stalks and leaves. I didn't even know that it was still alive! It had been sitting cold and hard in my refrigerator for God knows how long, and I just placed it in some water and breathed life right back in it....
I guess what I'm learning... Is that sometimes dead things really do bloom.... I'm realizing a little more every day that the key to life, is really death... Death to our desires. Death to our rights. Death to pride. Death to needs. To really really live.... sometimes you have to be willing to die. There's life that comes from death. Even when things seem cold, and brittle and hopeless... and then they bloom. Bringing beauty, and newness, and opportunity with it.... Whoever seeks to save his life will lose it, but those willing to lose their life for Him, will really really truly live....Mark 8:35
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