Room To Grow (part 1)

 The gardener talks about how this has been an abnormal year... how the raindrops haven't stopped falling and the temps have kept dropping and how some of her flowers are dying because of it. Too much water. Too much cold. Too many clouds. Just simply... too much. She says some types are born for this kind of weather but others? yeah they're wilting. Becoming diseased. Root-bound. Tucked in greenhouses under watchful care, they've made it for awhile but this unusual weather has kept them from getting into the ground... from leaving the seedling trays and being allowed to grow. And so they're rotting. 

And somehow, I'm seeing the metaphor the more she talks: fail to give people what they need to thrive, and they will die.  It may sound harsh, but it's true. When you don't or won't give souls the things they crave, they begin to fade. Grow discouraged. Emotionally distance themselves. Because no heart can survive unless it has what it needs... and no heart is the same. 

As with flowers, some are born for the wet and shady ways - they are built to weather the coolness and to grab what light they can from the natural daylight in order to continue growing and producing. But some like zinnias, they need sun. They need warmth. The hotter, the better. And when the life-weather won't cooperate, they droop. Not every kind is the most resilient. And not every human being can take a tough beating as well. Some need extra attention and when the gardener types in their life fail to adapt with their needs, they start to decay on the inside and pollute the other plants around them. 

The gardener knows something must be done. She can't let these plants stay here any longer. Even though the late spring weather isn't supposed to improve for another week, she does the only thing she feels she can: she pulls them up gently and transplants them to the ground. She removes the diseased plants and gives those struggling to survive a chance. She bets on their resilience. She intervenes in order that they may have life. 

I think about people - how incredibly strong they can be and how adaptable they are under many situations. Yet, we're still being cultivated with certain natural likes and needs and when we aren't given the attention to those in proper measure, we will cease to bloom. If we don't have enough of our inner light, if we don't have those around us who will help relocate us to a better plot to grow in, if we don't receive the love and attention that we so deeply desire and require, we won't be able to produce what we're made for in this world. Our harvest will be a waste. The uncontrollable forces like life-weather will have won. Our resilience can only carry us so far without a little help. 

Gardener takes the poor root-bound plants in her hands, talks to them, tells them she's there to help. Sees them withering on the stalk, blooms sagging as they long for room to spread. And I realize that sometimes we fail to identify the unique growing conditions each created individual needs. Instead of being like the Great Cultivator, tailoring care to what each person requires, we expect everyone to weather storms the same way... to rebound the same way... to want the same sort of help. And day by day, they keep on dying below the surface, silently crying out for someone to stop and pay attention. To hold them gently. To speak hope to them. To give them another chance at growth, at life. 

We all need some sun and some rain and there are limitations in this world that are necessary and good for the development of all our hearts but too much of any thing stunts us from growing. Keeps us from becoming who we're meant to be, from blooming into our most beautiful selves... 

Leave us and treat us too long as seedlings and we'll never learn what it means to become a plant. Fail to take some relational risks in order to rescue a dying heart and all you'll be left with is a cruel reminder of what could've been. 

It takes bravery to throw on the gloves and roll up the sleeves and get in the dirt and disease because you're determined that someone's survival is worth it. Your time or your pocketbook or your ego or your life may take its own kind of hit temporarily but what if, as that gardener found out, you walk up one day and see that life greening up? What if sacrificing some effort and accepting a small loss actually helps salvage a heart? 

Maybe there is such a thing as sheltering too long? Waiting for perfection and instead, watching potential pass someone by? Maybe there is value in betting on someone's resilience and ability to change, to grow... giving them a shot by allowing them to stretch and spread and put out roots of their own instead of holding back for optimal results? Maybe it's okay to let them fight for survival in a different way instead of growing diseased because you were too worried about keeping them safe? Because you were too concerned about their ability to grow on their own? 

In the garden of life and the garden of God, we need to be cared for and cultivated in the ways that best suit us... not always the ways that suit others. Every good gardener knows that, to keep happy flowers, happy plants, is to give them what they need... even when it means crossing your fingers and hoping they make it because certain forces are simply out of your control. 

Because that gardener was willing to give the remaining flowers a shot, she saved her investment and her crop. Were there losses? Yes. Will there be along the relational road as well? Indeed. But the price we pay for love is sometimes letting go... something that holding on will prove more detrimental to then betting on their resilience and supporting their growth ever will. 

So what cultivating risks are you going to be willing to make?