March 2024

March 2024
Over the years, we've always compared our family life to a wagon train heading west. Just as everyone had to do his part to get to Oregon years ago, so everyone in our family must do his/her part to make our journey through life successful. If somebody climbs in the wagon and lets the others do the work, we just don't make any progress. We all have to pull our weight and work together. Along the trail we find lots of pebbles that make for a smooth ride and some bigger rocks that jar us a little; we hit the occasional pothole that can slow us down. But if we purpose to search diligently, there are countless gold nuggets and precious gemstones along the way as well. This journal is an attempt to preserve some of those precious moments for our children, and our children's children, as together we travel this trail called life.

Thou wilt shew me the path of life: in thy presence is fulness of joy; at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore. Psalm 16:11


Wednesday, October 24, 2012

10-24-12 A Letter From Aunt Sarah

October 21, 2012

Dear Jacob –

I have a story that I want to share with you. Well, actually, it’s more of a lesson, but I’ll get to that!

Do you remember when you helped me unload that soil in my front flower bed? I think it was in July. Before we could unload it, I had to dig up the hostas that were there. As I did that, I could hear the roots ripping, even though I tried to get under the plant as much as possible. I mentioned it, saying something like, “Did you hear that?” Your response was very serious when you said, “Yes. I don’t like that sound.” I thought, “Hmm. That’s right. This is Jacob, my tree and plant loving nephew. He would be sensitive to what is happening to the plant.” I’m not saying that in a disrespectful way, Jacob. I’ve watched you grow up with an incredible ability to know trees and butterflies and birds and other insects . . . you have a keen sense for nature. I admire that in you. I think you’ll find in life that God will speak to you through that avenue.

We unloaded the dirt and I took you and the truck back to your house. When I came back home, I finished smoothing out the soil and proceeded to replant the hostas that I had laid over by the tree. They were actually pretty big, so I split them apart into six plants instead of the three that I had uprooted. As I worked, I thought about your comment. I realized that uprooting the plants and splitting them apart was actually going to make the garden better as there would be more of them and they would continue to grow despite my ‘rough’ treatment of them. The hostas would recover from the damage and thrive in the place that I planted them.

Hmmm . . . isn’t our life like that? Sometimes, God has to uproot something in our life so that we grow better. It may be something good that He wants to split apart and have more of. There are times when God has to uproot something because He doesn’t like what He sees in us. Or maybe our roots have grown a little too deep and He wants to remind us that this is not our final destination. I know that you are quite a bit younger than I am and this may not make a whole lot of sense to you right now. But I want you to remember this as you journey through life. Just a little something to think about.

But the story doesn’t end there, Jacob. I was working in my garden earlier this week and you’ll never guess what I was doing . . . pulling up plants! It is October and if you’re going to transplant anything, now is a good time to do it. And I thought of you every single time that I heard the sound of roots breaking. So I pondered the lesson some more. God had more to tell me, and therefore, I have more to share with you.

I have a flower bed in the back corner of my yard. It’s been an ongoing process over the past 2 years since I put that bed in. I’ve planted cannas both years. There are also some plants that are too close together in that bed. I have a miniature rose bush that is behind something that is huge . . . you can’t hardly see the rose bush once the lythrum has grown to its full height. Some things that I’ve planted didn’t do so well. Then there are two asters in other beds by my house that I think would grow well in the back bed. They’d look pretty nice there, too. Much nicer than they do where they are. One is being crowded out by the peppermint and the other has too much shade. I think they would be beautiful in that sunny back bed. Then there is an Asiatic lily that is in a shady spot and therefore doesn’t grow very well. And the coral bells . . . there are two of them that would probably do better with more sunlight.

So . . . I spent some time digging up the cannas. You see, if you don’t dig them up in the fall, they will freeze and won’t come up again the next year. When you dig them up, there are about 5 – 6 times more tubers than what you planted in the spring. You have to break them apart and store them in a dark place where the temperature is between 45 and 55 degrees. If you do this, you can plant them the next year and again enjoy this beautiful plant. Without digging them up and breaking them apart, you won’t have any cannas next year.

I also dug up the rose bush and moved it closer to the front of the bed. I pulled up the lythrum and put it closer to the edge so it is behind the other shorter plants. As for the asters, I dug them up from where they were and split two of them into three different areas of the back bed. The Asiatic lilies and the coral bells were also given a new home.

All the while I was doing this digging and transplanting and breaking apart, I was thinking about you and the story I wanted to tell you. Then I realized that there was more to the story.

While I was moving all of these plants, I was also anticipating what this bed will look like next year. I’m anxious to see how it looks. I’ve never had such a nice bed that was in the sun and I’ve found that plants there look so much better. I have so much shade here that most of my plants live in the shade and I’ve always thought that was kind of a gardening handicap. But that back bed looked great this year. I wonder what it will look like next year after I’ve moved all of this stuff.

So back to the lesson at hand . . . I’m thinking about the big picture of my garden. Despite the uprooting and damage that I may be doing to the plants, I am the master gardener and I see the value in moving a particular plant from point A to point B. I see the value in digging up and breaking apart the canna tubers. In my mind, I can see what it will look like with the rose bush closer to the front and the lythrum off to the side. I saw a picture once of asters that were in the sun. They were beautiful. I want my asters to look like that. Again, I’m thinking about the big picture of my garden. Now I know that while I am doing damage to the plants, they don’t have feelings and physical pain, but here’s where we have to stop and think about it from a different perspective.

Jacob, God is the Master Gardener in our life and the lives of everyone we know and love. Sometimes it is necessary for God to move us from point A to point B in a physical sense or in a spiritual sense. Sometimes He has to cut us back in size a little bit or break us apart for one reason or another. As mere mortals, it can be very, very difficult for us to see why things may be happening in our lives. From our perspective, everything seems perfectly logical the way they are right now. It hurts when situations change in our life or loved ones are taken or friends face severe illness or injury. And we don’t understand why these things happen. We feel hurt, or maybe even betrayed by God, just like the damage that happens when we pull out a plant and break the roots. But we have to remember that God sees the big picture. He knows the end from the beginning. He knows us and our situation in life better than we do ourselves. If He finds it necessary to uproot us or someone else in our life, we have to trust that He is doing it with our best interest in mind. He sees the whole flower bed in full bloom.

I spent a lot of time pondering all this the other day. I hope I never forget this lesson from the Master Gardener. I hope that I think of you every time I dig up a plant and hear the roots breaking apart. And I hope that you’ll remember this story, too. I think it can help you in the years to come as you continue to draw closer to our Master Gardener.

I love you, Jacob!

Aunt Sarah

No comments:

Post a Comment