It's been a busy summer so far and it doesn't look like my schedule will slow down for a while. I guess that's why it happened. I nearly committed phytoslaughter ... as opposed to phytocide. (definitions below)
On top of the usual activities of life, Curt and I have undertaken a major purging project in our home. We've made progress in the garage, basement, attic, office, grandkid room and so on. The process has been enjoyable even though it's been draining. There's also been a lot of coming and going with guests. It is always a delight to share the home the Lord has granted us so I was singing along my way. It wasn't until I was finalizing the preparations for a visit from our three wonderful grandchildren that the crisis confronted me.
The philodendron on the back of our toilet (Please excuse the use of this graphic word. That's just where it sits. I didn't want to tell you, but its location is important to my story/confession.) was in desperate straits. I was shocked to see all of its leaves hanging limply around its pot. It seemed like only the day before I had remarked to myself how much it seemed to be thriving on the sunshine and fresh air streaming in through the overhead skylight. I even noticed that one of its lower leaves was turning brown from being bashed by the toilet (There's that gauche word again, sorry.) seat cover. Obviously time had slipped by and my poor plant was suffering from lack of care. I confess that I couldn't remember the last time I'd given it water.
I felt irresponsible and careless and my insides seemed to wither. I can't stand it when I let something go and then see the sad results right before my eyes. Hey, my internal self felt just like that philodendron looked!
Could I be identifying with a plant? Well, at that moment, yes. Come to think of it, whenever I go through a trying time I probably do feel like that plant to one degree or another. My spirit feels pale with a lack of interest. My limbs go limp with a lack of energy. My mind tells me that nobody cares about me since I'm not being watered. My heart withers in defeat. In my low down state I end up getting bumped and bruised by things that don't normally touch me. I begin to wonder if the desert I'm in is endless. My thirsty philodendron was a pretty good example of what happens when I hit a difficult patch of life.
I praise God that I was not in that position that day. My mind and heart rallied with the truth. I know that difficult times do come and they can be devastating. We live in a fallen world surrounded by a pagan culture and it can be downright desolate at times. However, I/we aren't meant to dwell in that desert. It's draining, painful and lonely. God's plan for His chosen ones is the antithesis of such a dry and lifeless existence. Jeremiah 29:11; John 10:10 Our souls are meant to sing songs of victory in spite of our surroundings, in the face of any circumstances. That's what I wanted to give my philodendron.
I've learned over the years, from drowning unnumbered samples of vegetation, that it's not good to flood withering plants. The proper first step is to give it a small amount of water. I determined to suppress the urge to make up for my life-threatening behavior by unleashing my guilt in the form of buckets of liquid. I knew it needed water, but I used a tiny cup and poured a very small amount across the top of the soil. I didn't see any instant results. I had to rely on what I knew to be true and hold off the desire to have my poor philodendron pop right back to life. For one of a few times I did the right thing. I delivered what was needed at the moment and left the water do its work.
I did not turn my back on my plant all together. For one thing I don't like to give up on anything. I prefer to apply myself fully in every situation and make sure I've offered everything I can. I made sure to pay attention to the tilt of the philodendron's leaves and, using much restraint, continued to provide small amounts of water every couple of days. When they started to perk up without showing any signs of yellowing I was encouraged.
The day finally came when I took the plant down to the kitchen and showered it in the sink. I knew I still needed to be cautious about getting drowning the roots - another lesson learned from past drowning victims. I held the pot to the side and used the sprayer only on the leaves, wiping them with a gentle finger. The incidental spray was the only water the soil received that day. When the leaves began to spring back up, I returned it to its assigned place. Sure enough, the lowest leaf was now lifted above the punishing (ahem) seat cover. I was making progress and I could feel my spirit relax.
The Scriptures are rife with references about God's life-giving water. Psalms 1,22,23; Proverbs 25; Isaiah 49; Zechariah 14; John 4 and 7; Ephesians 5; and 1 Peter 3 are but a few places to search. Perhaps none is as powerful as Revelation 21:6. It is clear that God's children need God's water/truth all the time and most especially when we're facing trials. When we're struggling, feeling parched and on the verge of tears we're more likely to get bumped and bruised by minor issues. When our leaves are withered, hanging limply around the pot, as my philodendron's were, God is waiting to pour living water over us - right where we need it and in just the right amount.
Psalm 126 spoke to my heart on this topic this very morning. Verses 5 and 6 report, Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. He who goes out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him.
The individual described in these verses appears to be in a rocky place, yet he is neither alone nor empty-handed. He carries the seed of faith. He is in the midst of difficulties, yet he is expressing/sharing his faith, sowing his seed. God's covenant to those whose faith abides in hard times is that they will be filled with overflowing joy as they gather a harvest full of blessings. This is not a maybe kind of statement or some wishful thinking. This is the infallible, unchangeable, inspired, breathed promise of God. He commits to revive, restore, and reward those who faithfully turn to Him. Hallelujah!
I'm pleased to report that my plant is thriving nicely. Its sturdy leaves are dark green signals of the proper care it's been receiving. There's even a new shoot to punctuate fresh growth. My prayer is that each of us will surrender to the Lord and experience that same blossoming under the watering can of His Word. Amen
phytocide n the deliberate and systematic destruction of a particular member of the plant phyla
phytoslaughter n the killing of a plant without intentional or implied malice
