Last Independence Day... what we refer to as the 4th of July, my sweet husband planted Limelight Hydrangeas and purple cone flowers in the corners of our front yard. The season was harsh, the sun relentless, with humidity levels near the, "Oh my, I'm gonna die" range. While Tennessee is known as the volunteer state, I prefer to call it, the two shower a day state.
My husband, also relentless in his pursuit to garden no matter how red the top of his head... and the fruit of his labor, in addition to the actual fruit, is a smiling wife. Thrilled that each summer her eyes will look upon these hydrangeas, reminding her of her wedding bouquet... luscious, lacy, airy gorgeousness.
The plants suffered, changing the moment they went into the well prepared soil. Though the soil was rich with nutrients, the plants went into shock. The heat and sun so oppressive that no matter the water and food showered, they shriveled looking forlorn and neglected.
We continued to weed, water and feed... spring offering new life. The roots had grown deep as the plants reached for the sky, with gigantic blooms of lacy splendor.
As I looked at them I thought we are not so different. The seasons can be harsh and we may shrivel under the oppressive heat, feeling shock at how someone treated us, the place we find ourselves. When we find our breath, we look up... feeling the roots that ground us in His Truth, pushing us forward. The weeding, watering and feeding that has happened along the path, our journey, results in new life. Deeper roots in solid ground.
We flourish again... stronger, more vibrant than before.