I positioned them right by the front door so that everyone who came would see them. They were SO lovely. They stayed lovely for quite some time all on their own. They had to do it on their own because I watered them the day they arrived and then never watered them again. Not one time. I'm not proud of this fact, it just is what it is. I'm not a green thumb, plant caretaker, nurturer of nature kind of girl. In fact, my house is historically where plants and flowers go to die...a botanical butcher shop of sorts.
Eventually, I was back on my feet and pulling in and out of the garage each day like I'd always done before the broken foot. One day though, a friend dropped me off at home and I needed to use the front door. As I was walking to the door, I noticed that all three of the plants were dead. Like, dead dead. Brown, limp, brittle deadness. People were coming over to visit the next day so I asked Jeffrey to move the dead plants to the back of the house out on the back patio. I'd clean them out and throw them away at some point. Time went on, seasons came and went and eventually it was time for us to begin packing to move out of that house.
On the last day, after all the furniture was gone, Jeffrey had to make one more trip for the patio furniture. Lo and behold, the three pots were still there. We hadn't thought about them in eight months and one of them actually looked like it might be trying to come back to life with a little green emerging! We moved all three pots to the new house and still didn't water them or give them any attention. But, they assumed their positions on the back deck of the new house and we set about getting unpacked and settled in.
Over the last several weeks and certainly over the last few days, we've had more rain than dry weather here in Atlanta and as I looked out the kitchen window today in the pouring rain I was pretty shocked at what I saw. That plant that was dead a few weeks ago is as alive as you or I...and I still haven't watered it a drop. The other two pots? Still dead as door nails. This one though...it's different. I stood there for several minutes watching raindrops slide down the glass and then stared through them to that pretty green sign of life in all that grey. And the Holy Spirit began giving me those familiar tugs and nudges...
"That plant is alive because I kept it alive."
"I am the One Who determines when something is no longer useful, not you."
"You ignored and neglected it and all the time I was nurturing it."
"You left it for dead, but nothing thwarts my purposes."
"If these are the lengths of power I will go to for a plant on a back porch in Atlanta, how much farther will I go for you?"
I'm sure my kids must have wondered what on earth I was doing sprawled over the kitchen table with my face pressed against rain-soaked windows but I could hardly catch my breath as I began to process it all. And as I processed it, I began to feel it, and as I began to feel it, I wondered if maybe someone else needed to feel it too...
God knows exactly where you are. He knows what front porch corner you're sitting in, how amazing you thought it would be and how it hasn't lived up to its hype. He knows you're brown, lifeless and brittle. He knows...whether anyone else does or not. He knows how you got there even though you've forgotten. He knows who neglected to water you and pour life into you. He knows who told you how pretty you were initially but who hasn't so much as glanced your direction since. He knows how from the angle of the corner you're backed into you can't even remember what the sun's rays look like, much less feel their warmth. He knows how it feels to be moved to the backyard so that the important people won't see you when they arrive. You're not forgotten in this season.
God knows exactly where you are. He knows the brutal nature of the back patio you've been relegated to. There was a day when you'd have given anything to feel the warmth of the sun's rays but now you can't escape the brutal heat. What you thought was a sure escape from the porch seems to only be an avenue to more pain. Now you experience the elements in all their extremes. Sure, there are good days here and there, but there is no shelter from the bad days. Darkest night, bitter cold, biting wind and scorching heat. At least you were somewhat sheltered on the front porch. He knows. But He also knows that with the scorching heat of affliction and purging comes drenching, cleansing, purifying rain. You're not forsaken in this season.
God knows exactly where you are. He knows that one day, when you least expect it, you'll begin to recognize life again and yourself in it. He knows you'll eventually see that He was using the death on the front porch and dormancy of the back patio to cultivate life in the secret. Down under the soil where prying eyes weren't watching. In the deep parts where only He is skilled enough to weed out the brown and brittle and replace it with the green and nourished. And then, when the time is right, He knows that you'll have the strength from Him to push through that soil of the secret place and out into the world again into what He's created for you. Into who He's created you to be. Into the life that will bring Him most glory because He receives all the credit for it in the first place. He knows.
No matter where you are on the journey, you need to know that He knows where you are and is not limited by your circumstances, your location, your qualifications, your opportunities or your own limitations. In fact, in a beautiful display of sovereignty, He may even use the very situation you wish to be delivered FROM in order to deliver you TO His purposes for you. And in it all...it will be all Him. I still haven't watered that plant. But it's been watered abundantly by God for the last two weeks straight. Why? Because it's sitting there depending on Him to do just that. It certainly can't depend on me, and you and I can't depend on others for our nourishment either. The kind of deep down soul nourishment we need is only available from Him and through His Word.
God knows exactly where you are. You will enter into the season of cleansing and nourishing rain when the time is exactly right. He knows where you are. He will choose you to thrive even as others merely survive or don't last through the season. He is the One who determines usefulness and He alone can nurture while all others neglect. He hasn't left you for dead. Lean into Him. Dig deep while He digs deeper. Nothing will thwart the purposes of God for you. Nothing.
The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me;
your steadfast love, O Lord, endures forever.
Do not forsake the work of your hands. - Psalm 138:8 (esv)
A week or so ago on a lovely night at the Braves game, my friend Rob crossed the stadium and climbed what seemed like a million stairs to sit down with me and Maggie. He then proceeded to speak two things over me. One of those things was: "Ever since you moved back from California you don't write as much. You need to get back to that." So Rob, thanks for the nudge. This one's for you.
