A Life in Exile

I’ve been working on a project—not a writing one this time, but a manual labor out-in-the-yard kind of project. It all stems from my deep hatred of weeds. I have a postage-stamp size yard. One that’s so small, I can mow it with an electric mower. The grass is not the problem, it’s the “landscaped” (I use that term loosely) area around the grass. When I moved into my condo seven years ago, I wanted flowers and roses. I have always missed the lovely yard I had in Beirut, Lebanon. It was full of rose bushes, irises, and all manner of flowers. I didn’t plant that yard but inherited it, and I’ve never been able to reproduce it.

Anyway, I realized that I just can’t keep up with the weeds and grass that wanted to invade the outer rim of my yard, and I had enough. I decided that I would dig up all the plants and put down pebbles and pavers, adding potted plants to make it easier to maintain.

Good plan, right?

With the plan in mind, I researched how much I needed of the stones and the cost involved. I even checked out prices for pots and plant stands. I was proud of myself for the due diligence to “count the cost” before moving forward. Then I just had to wait. “On what?” you ask. The temperature to get down to a comfortable level for me to put in the necessary exertion required to start removing plants.

Little did I know that I would have to be so patient for Tennessee summer to become Tennessee fall, but alas, the morning temps broke and I was able to start the demolition stage of my project.

Deep roots.

It was as I was digging out the largest and oldest of my rose bushes, that my thoughts turned to the difficulty before me. Determined not to have to call my son, who was busy with a little thing called a new baby, I persevered. This was not a job I could accomplish in a morning or even a day. It was really hard work and took me over a week to finally bring the plant’s roots out into the light.

Roots are not just deep but intertwined. They mix with the roots of other plants and they go in every kind of direction, some running under the fence itself. Not only that but there are thorns on the bush itself, making it hard to grab hold of and rock back and forth.

I could not help but see the comparison when we go deep into God’s Word. We are so much better prepared to face attacks (as I was definitely attacking that bush). Our understanding of the inevitable trials makes us tough-skinned as those stems. It’s harder for Satan to push us over. We’re not easily swayed by the winds of opinion and temptation.

Deep spiritual roots, like the ones on that rose bush, help to keep me grounded in Christ. Plants with shallow roots are easily removed and pulled up, but not those who have, over time, let their roots go deep for any and all nutrients the ground can offer.

So then, just as you have received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to walk in him, being rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, and overflowing with gratitude. (Colossians 2: 6-7 CSB emphasis added)

May our roots grow deep in Christ.

God’s grace.

The other lesson I learned in my garden project was about God’s grace. I realized as I was digging that, as I’m now in my sixth decade of life, I cannot do as much as I used to. Not only did I pray for cooler weather, but I realized that God showed his grace by providing it in short spans of time. We’ve had some nice fall mornings, and I realized it was his grace by providing the cooler temps in the mornings, which allowed me to work, but then as it heated up, I stopped and rested. I had just enough cool weather for the strength he’d given me. That’s grace.

He knew I didn’t need to be out there any longer because I couldn’t take it. My back can’t take it; my arms and hips and everything else can’t take it. It’s just a reminder that his grace can be found in so many things in our lives, and it’s so beautiful.

May we see his grace in the daily mercies of this life and give him thanks and praise.

Love for God’s creation.

As you can see from my pictures, I’ve made progress in this project, but I’m at a point of a quandary. I have three rose bushes on the left side of my yard. One has not done well. The middle one produces yellow roses (which I love) that smell lovely, but the bush is all over the place, which drives me crazy. The third is a very strong bush that produces long-stemmed red roses, that are absolutely beautiful.

Did I say, I love roses? Anyway, as I came to this point in my project, all three bushes had buds and blooms. It was after a nice rain, and they were happy roses! I didn’t have the heart to start chopping them down, so I waited. I clipped off the buds and enjoyed a week of the beautiful blooms in my home. I will miss having roses at my beck and call (and free) to enjoy. Besides, my youngest son and his wife just gave me a new bud vase from Holland. It’s lovely. This morning, I clipped two new red roses, put them in the vase, and took a picture to send them.

The joy of those roses must be worth something. Now, I’m counting a new cost—the cost of losing my rose bushes. While I could get rid of two of them, I just don’t think I have the heart to dig up the red bush. Some things are worth saving.

May the Lord give us wisdom to know when to tear down and when to save, keep, and maintain that which brings him glory and us much joy.

Who knew that God could use weeds to start me on a learning journey? I’m looking forward to the day when I get to tend roses in the restored Garden. No aches, no pains, no difficult decisions then! Hallelujah.

Grace and Peace

If you missed the last Wednesday Wisdom, click HERE, or check out these other posts on grace and roots: Learning from the Past: Thirty-One, Gems from Genesis: Chapter 7, The Grace of Humble Pie, and A Lesson in Grace.