The shovel went deep into the rich dark topsoil and found its place about three inches below the surface. Raising the shovel out of the ground, the dirt was stacked haphazardly on top of the ground nearby. A second, third, and a fourth shovel of dirt came out of the hole and the pile of dirt around the hole increased. My morning task was to add some color to the oval-shaped bed near the end of the driveway.
It was late spring and the time to spruce up around the house. For me, it just wasn’t spring if I didn’t plant some type of flowers. I added the fertilizer, some peat moss, and a rich mound of mulch to the hole and mixed them together. The burgundy ruffled petunias were separated and placed throughout the bed interspersed with a scattering of white petunias. I tamped down the soil and lightly watered the bed so that the flowers would be moist and stay upright. Sections of variegated liriope intermingled with some yellow coreopsis finished the picture.
I moved the large planter in the middle of the bed to the area just off the sidewalk coming away from the house near the front door. I added some lavender wave-like ruffled petunias into the urn and stepped back to be sure that everything looked exactly as I had imagined. Everything looked perfect and now it was time to sit back and watch the profusion of color brighten my yard.
Faithfully each day I headed out to the flower beds to be sure that everything was progressing and to remove any invading weeds that threatened to take up residence in the flower bed. I was maintaining control over everything and I felt like I was ready to have the “flower garden of the month” sign placed conspicuously in the front yard.
On one Thursday morning my dreams were shattered. When I wandered outdoors with my early cup of coffee I noticed that the plants had been pulled up and several of them had missing flowers. I growled and wondered exactly what had happened. Not a clue. Who would be so cruel as to heartlessly undo all the hard work and time it took to plant and organize everything? Alas, the hoof prints in the soil and the dark nuggets left behind by the deer told the sad story.
Not to be outdone, I replanted what few flowers remained and headed back to the nursery to purchase another flat of hardy petunias. For the second time I labored and planted everything again, hoping that this time nothing would happen. It looked great and I was confident that this time everything would be all right. I placed a small fence around the bed hoping to deter anything else that might attempt to ruin the picture-perfect scene. The planter near the front sidewalk seemed fine and the petunias were flowing gracefully over the side of the planter.
Early Sunday morning about two weeks later I noticed that the plants again looked rather shabby. I analyzed the scene just like any CSI agent would tackle a crime scene. Short stubs of green stuck up and the flowers were shredded on the ground. The liriope was cut off about three inches above the ground and a tell tale piece of orange string nearby told the rest of the story. Oh, drat, Bobby must have zapped them with the weed eater yesterday when he was trimming the yard. He must have been distracted or simple didn’t pay close attention to what he was doing. I checked the planter near the front door and discovered that somehow the plants had been pulled up by the root and carelessly placed on the sidewalk. Purple flower petals were scattered on the ground, once vibrant and alive but now wilted.
Well, summer would last longer than a month so once more I replanted the flower bed. My enthusiasm had started to wane but I was determined to not give up. I removed all the weeds in the area and added some more mulch to the area. I double-checked the planter near the front door and so far everything in that section of the yard looked great.
As fate would have it our electricity went out late one evening and we spent the night in the glow of candle light. The next morning as I headed towards the front yard, I cringed as I saw the tire tracks running directly over the flower bed. Whether the truck missed the driveway or its wheels missed the concrete while backing out, one thing was for certain. Only a few survivors remained after the lovely blossoms had been decapitated from their hardy stalk.
As the cool months of spring moved into summer the need for water was a necessity. With a stifling heat wave, the flowers had to be watered more frequently. It was a daily chore to check on the plants, religiously pull out any weeds, and in general keep the bed maintained. I always enjoyed the Fourth of July picnic at Matt’s house and put someone in charge of watering the garden while I was gone. The instructions were to water the flowers in the early morning hours so that the afternoon sun would not snuff out their life. But with the extreme heat of the afternoon the plants looked like curled up strings with wilted petals hanging onto the stalk. Oh dear, what could I do now? Rather than replant the bed with new selections I felt that the weather was probably too hot and voted to postpone my task until the fall when the weather was cooler.
I had often heard the phrase “bloom where you are planted”. I questioned hose words of wisdom as time and time again I was defeated in my attempts to get anything to bloom in my yard. Was there any way to bloom if time and time again things failed? The fate of the flower rested in the hands of the gardener and the care he gave to it.
Exactly how can I overcome adverse events that unpredictably come into my life? There is no way to prepare for everything that I face in life. I have to trust fully in God to get me through each crisis. Just like the flowers that I expected to grow, time and time again the blooms were destroyed. Yet there was still some type of root system. That root system kept the plant growing even when the flowers had been removed. The heat, however, caused damage that may or may not have snuffed out the life of the plant. Circumstances made life difficult and required extra care.
As I walk through each day I come face to face with problems that test my character. I may think I can handle some of the little things but the larger the crisis, the more I depend on God to walk with me and help give me the wisdom to choose between right and wrong. When my feet are firmly planted like the delicate but deep root system of a plant I can remain strong no matter what trials I face. I may get beaten down a few times with circumstances that require the tender hand of God on my shoulder. My petals may droop from exhaustion, wilt from not drinking enough water from His word; or the delicate petals may slowly fall to the ground as the problems in life overwhelm me. I need some love and tender attention and I have the perfect gardener.
God sees me as His flower and patiently tends to my care. He makes all the difference in how I mature and blossom in the light of His love. He guides me through all the trials and teaches me to trust completely in Him. He wants only the best for me. Yes, now I know that I can learn to “bloom where I am planted.”
James 1:2-4 My brethren count it all joy when you fall into various trials knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work that you may be perfect and complete lacking nothing (NKJV)
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