Blooming

Once when I was young, my Grandma Rainbow asked me what I would like to be when I grew up, and I remember telling her, "I would like to be a mother and a writer."  I do not recollect her response, but I'm sure it was in some way affirming, because she was an affirming person, and also, if she had not affirmed me, I'm sure my shock would have been memorable.

All through my youth, novels roiled in my imagination, and even during my pregnancies and years of child-rearing, I fell asleep many a night while mentally composing descriptions of days in the lives of my characters.  "Some day," I told myself, "some day, I will have time, and I will write my novel."

The day is now here.  I have time.  I wake up morning after morning with the wide expanse of a day before me, house mostly clean, bills mostly paid, laundry mostly done, often even with appetizing leftovers waiting in tupperware in the refrigerator.  Yet, when I sit down to write, the novel is gone.  My characters have evaporated, the only remains being empty spaces where my mind used to hold names, faces, personality traits, wardrobes and complex histories.

So I try to prime the imagination with journaling, blogging, perusing paint colors for interior design, reading articles about psychology, trying new recipes (I have learned to do the most delicious ribs), and gardening, which is probably the most helpful, but if I have a thought out in the garden, it is a long way to clean fingernails over a computer keyboard.

The other day I was considering my bedraggled Jacob's Ladder plants, which didn't bloom last year, and don't look likely to bloom this year, either.  I was wondering about moving them, and whether they would flourish better in a new spot, or if the journey would kill them.  I recently killed a languishing peace lily by repotting it.  Well, it's not completely dead yet, but it doesn't look good.  It did great for the first two years, until we had our furnace replaced one February on a particularly frigid day, and the house got really cold, and then--to air out the toxic fumes from the new furnace unit--the repair guy told us to open the front door for awhile, thus precipitating a ferocious rush of sub-zero wind near the peace lily's spot in the corner of the living room.  Between the freezer burn and the bad air, the poor plant has never been the same, although for awhile it suffered along and even threw up a bloom now and then.  I thought I could maybe revive it with some new fertilizer-infused potting soil, but it seems to have been a doomed endeavor.

Which got me thinking, in general, about how different plants do well in different places.  I had a rhododendron when we lived in Liverpool, and for years it slumped, stunted in the front yard.  Finally we moved it to the backyard, left of the deck, near the spigot for the hose, where it grew and bloomed for a period of time.  Then, although it kept growing, it stopped blooming for a number of years.  The summer we moved away, it produced one last, lovely flush of blossoms for me.

Peonies and coneflowers do well in sun.  Impatiens and hydrangeas do well in shade.  My sweet woodruff seems happy in the shade, as do the hostas (of course), and the lavender is surviving, although not with much gusto, in partial shade.

People are like plants.  Different environments have different effects on different people.  Just as different plants have different needs for sunlight, water, and soil density or pH, people have different needs for encouragement, exhortation, and even education.  You have to find the right spot for things, where they will thrive and flourish, and be appreciated.  Black eyed Susans are welcome in some places, but not others, and people can be like that, too.

The church should be about the business of helping people find their spot in the garden of life, the place where they can grow and flourish and provide something of value for others.  This is the great metaphor of the body of Christ, and the truth of spiritual gifts.  We need to help and encourage one another in our use of spiritual gifts.  Sometimes, we even need to sacrifice to enable someone else to exercise a spiritual gift.  Supposing I plant two types of flowers that are supposed to grow to roughly the same height, but one of them grows higher, and the other grows lower, than the label predicted.  If the taller plant is in front of the lower plant, it will shade it out and kill it, but if the lower plant is in front of the taller plant, they can both take their place, blooming in the garden.  We must be willing to back up for those who need to bloom in front of us in life; this is important.  It is an expression of grace and humility, and it prevents us causing great damage.  When we do it right, the cumulative effect is grand and glorious.  God wants to enjoy all of our faces.

A dandelion can grow anywhere, in any light condition, and in any soil, even between bricks or in the cracks of concrete.  Dandelions are a cheerful yellow, and they are even edible, leafy greens packed with vitamins, medicinal roots and blossoms, all-around hearty and useful.  However, they are invasive.  Where they grow, they take over, and kill the plants around them.  If you let the dandelions go in your yard and garden, soon you will have only dandelions.  In churches, people who are insensitive to the beauty of differences can be like that.

I am not advocating the tolerance of unrighteousness, but I think we must be careful what we call unrighteous.  Righteousness is God's way, and His ways are higher than our ways.  His ways can be hard to comprehend.  He creates tender pansies, temperamental hydrangeas and roses, trusty boxwoods, tractable obedient plant, tough daylilies, timid begonias, and triumphant zinnias.  All of these plants will thrive in the right place, under the right conditions, with the right companions.  Likewise, any of them can perish in a bad location and with threatening competition.  God loves them all.  He loves us far more.  He is for us.  He is on our side.  His will is that we all flourish in His grace, reflect His glory, and experience His great love both for us, and passing through us to others.

Some people are quiet, and some are exuberant.  Some people laugh a lot, and others are more serious.  Some people are quick to believe, and see things simply at face-value.  Some people labor over ideas and wrestle with doubts.  Some people need to take time to envision things internally, while others need to learn by doing and experiencing.  Some people like to decide and get to work, while others like to explore and compare all possibilities.  Some people tend to look forward and plan, while others tend to look back and remember.  Some people like to work through things in a group, while others prefer to process privately.  Some people are good at physical jobs, and others are better at intellectual tasks.  Some people tend to be very careful, while others are willing to take a risk.  These character qualities are not intrinsically good or bad, only different.  God loves us all and wants us to cooperate and learn to live together, appreciating one another.

We need love, compassion and humility more than we need anything.  Interestingly, love, compassion and humility are virtually the same thing.  The Bible tells us God is love.  I leave you to work out the connections.

This isn't what I meant to write about, but it was in my head, perhaps channeling through one of the spaces formerly occupied by a literary character who was never brought to life.

It's okay.

I'd like to find my place to grow and bloom, but until I do, maybe I could have the privilege of helping a few other people find theirs.  When someone isn't thriving, that someone might just need a new environment, new companions, and better soul-food.  Oh God, let me be an agent in Your program for transplanting souls to where You know they need to be.

Incidentally, I once wrote a short story called Blooming.  I have no idea what ever happened to it.