ROSE COLORED GLASSES

The rose bush bloomed in spring.  Rejuvenated, despite my hatchet job cutting the foliage to the root and disturbing its winter hibernation, the roses came back – gloriously!  I was discouraged in December after my amateurish pruning of the branches resulted in a plant that looked like sticks poking out of the soil, but God revived the plant and restored my soul with this lovely visual reminder that spring is a wonderful, revitalized time of the year when all nature is replenished to rightfully glorify the earth’s Designer.

 With renewed inspiration that grace supersedes inexperience and even stupidity, I visit the local garden center in pursuit of a transplanting adventure.  I love the sensory experience of a nursery – the colorful blooms swirling together in baskets, the texture of the foliage, the chirping of the visiting birds, and the heavenly aroma of the intoxicating fragrances of the plants.  I’m lured into thinking that I am a gardener and join the conversations of other shoppers comparing the growing seasons of different species, discussions about shade/sun tolerance, and I ask them which plants would tolerate drought because outside vegetation doesn’t get much attention from me in the dog days of summer.

 I hurry home from the garden center in anticipation of beautifying our yard with my carefully selected purchases.  Arriving home I survey our property and of course, the weeds have returned from their slumber as well.  They are everywhere!  Weeds are blooming in the yard and in the flower beds.  So tenacious is a weed that it will even break through concrete to prove its vitality.

 I begin weeding, and weeding, and weeding the flower beds.  My back aches, I’m hot, and it’s really slow going pulling handful after handful of greenery out of the ground by the roots.  Weeds are deceptive – some are big with shallow roots and others are small with very deep roots.  And a small thorny one must be hanging on in China because I never could dig down far enough to get it out.  All this work made me a bit contemplative and I remembered a verse I learned in my childhood from a book written by Dale Evans:

Dear Lord, my life is a garden

Each deed is a tiny seed

Help me to grow lovely flowers

Not naughty, ugly weeds

 It is funny how being outside brings things inside my head.   In the solitude of the garden I find myself thinking about my life and taking time to feel the gentle pull of the Lord “weeding” my heart.  There it is – gardening is not for wimps!  It is labor and as we all know, you get what you work for in life.  I am joining the ranks of those that appreciate the sweat of the brow and farsighted enough to prepare for the sacrifices involved in clearing, planting, watering and waiting. 

 Maybe my son and BDIL (beautiful daughter-in-law) will notice the blooming roses and pretty flower beds when they come to our house.  One day I plan to give my BDIL cuttings from the iris plants from our yard to plant in their home garden.  In Greek the word iris means “rainbow” because of all the showy color.  I have had the beautiful flowers in my yard for over thirty years and I want to share the joy with my BDIL by passing to her a living legacy as part of the family inheritance.  I added some new flowers to my garden and I am especially proud of the calla lilies I planted this year.  Now if only the calla lilies can survive my lack of attention in August – she can have some of those cuttings too!