Friday, September 28, 2012


During the last few weeks of this summer I left my house and returned again each day, walking across my front patio with a twinge of regret.  I had worked hard in the early spring to repaint the outdoor furniture, find new cushions for the chairs and sofa, and even splurged on some pots and plants to freshen up the walkway.  After spending one lovely evening enjoying my work, I never sat out there again.  Life just got busy and the warm evenings slipped on by.  Now, the soil edges where the hosta grew (before they were chewed down by deer) were unruly and overgrown with weeds.  Some of the plants stood unfortunately dehydrated in their pots, unrevivable between the rains that kept the rest of the plants, and more weeds, sustained.

September came dutifully and I had happily jumped into the back-to-school routine when it happened.  Instead of plowing across my scraggly concrete garden to get into my car, I glanced up to my neighbor's impeccably landscaped yard.  There they were: perfectly potted mums.  Beautiful autumn colors.  Something inside me crumbled.

I looked back at my weeds and potted sticks and started to debate the expense of planting more seasonal flowers.  I weighed the time spent working and the time spent resting.  I did this quickly, because I pretty much have the same debate every spring and fall.  And then I noticed.

Poking through the midst of the overgrowth were marigolds.  Neon orange and velvety maroon blooms that I had not planted, nor planned for, reached toward the sun while their hidden roots dug deep into soil where the seeds had landed.

Seeing those flowers brought a peace to my heart that had been churning for months.  I have planted hidden seeds of beauty that you will never expect.  Just clear out the junk and give them space to grow.

Instead of tending to the indoor chores on Saturday morning, I spent some time clearing out the junk.  Slowly, deliberately, I made space for new plants and took a step back.  I turned away the urge to replant the flowers with even spaces between them.  No need.

After a few days of merciful hydration from above, my garden is fresher than ever.  Where I let go, life went on to flourish.  And I have a little time to soak it in.

 "I will wait for the Lord,
who is hiding his face from the descendants of Jacob.
I will put my trust in him."  Is 8:17

Linking today with Sandy and others at:


  1. Gorgeous post, flowers, and sentiment.

  2. So beautiful. Much for me to learn here, somewhere between "merciful hydration" and "let go"...

  3. I love this. A rose grower for years has given me such an appreciation for the way God speaks through flowers in spite of the weeds. Great post.

  4. Such a wonderful word picture, in the pattern of Jesus, who drew analogies from the soil.