On being replanted

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This is a cyclamen plant, similar to one I received as a Christmas gift from one of my piano students in 2009. After bringing it home from my studio, I sat it next to my kitchen sink and enjoyed it's precious flowers as I washed dishes. I loved the way the blossoms branched up and away from the base of leaves, as if reaching for the sky. It was fragile, yet strong. Noble, yet delicate.

And there it sat. 

Every once in a while I would water it...expecting that it would continue to bring life to my kitchen along with the pleasure that I had something to remind me of my precious students. 

Then...day by day...it started to wither and die. Until there was nothing left. No sign of life.

I was sure I killed it.

Did I water it too much?! Not enough?!

I was devastated.

In spite of seeing no sign of life and for whatever reason,  I was given hope...when all signs pointed a different direction...and so I continued to water it. For months. And months. I still don't understand why I didn't give up. Visually, there was no sign of change. Rationally, it was gone. And yet, I kept watering.

Then one day...finally...a sprout appeared. Then another. And another. Pretty soon, my plant was back to the size it was when it was gifted to me. What I had failed to realize is that it was a perennial. It's what they do, evidently. Who knew?! (I'm sure there are a lot of you that did!) How excited and relieved I was to see it sprout little tendril legs and start to grow again!

Although I could bring the story to an end right here and have it be a charming story about hope in times when there seems to be no sign of life... that isn't where this story ends. There's more.

There always is with God. 

So...I had this plant sitting next to my sink on my kitchen counter and was showing it off to a friend. I brought her to the plant in the kitchen and shared the story...rounding it out with my excitement about how it was "thriving" (yes...that is the EXACT word I used!)...and sharing with her how tickled I was that I didn't kill the thing.

That is when my dear friend - full if grace - gave me a healthy dose of reality.

"The plant would be MUCH bigger - and happier - if it was in larger pot and exposed to some morning sun" she said, full of wisdom. "It's not thriving. It's surviving." Surviving. I instantly knew she was right (I had witnessed, first hand, the proof that she knew more about gardening than me!).   

Surviving? Yes!

Thriving?...That's a bit of a stretch.

This has since become my life metaphor. For many years 'survival mode' was my normal. So normal, that I could not acknowledge or accept that there were wonderful possibilities beyond where I was. Hoping was scary. Dreaming was dangerous. Anticipation simply led to disappointment. I wanted to thrive, but survival is where I sat. Even years after I had identified my state.

Better was better...right?! After all, I wasn't struggling the way I used to. I (we) had made progress. We had moved forward...some. We weren't as bad off as we were five years ago. I should be content...right?...Isn't content where God wants us? 

Here's what I have since come to terms with...

Survival mode is purposeful. It has its place. It's meant to keep us alive. It's meant to give us just what we need in order to not give up completely on this broken world (and the Lord knows how close I came to this point!). Survival mode is meant to be temporary. It's a season. 

But we aren't supposed to stay there. There is a big difference between stagnant water and flowing water (expounding on this will have to involve a future post). 

We have metaphors for this all around us and this plant just happens to be one of them. In order for the plant to "thrive", it needed to be moved. To a pot with more space for roots. To a place where sun was more available (I'm claiming this literally and figuratively). To a place with room to grow. Sure, it was beautiful in the pot next to the sink...but is that what it was truly created to be? 

What IF?...

What IF I allow myself to release my grip on the limit I had placed on my life...and - ultimately - God? What IF I allow myself to be re-planted...rooted...somewhere different...somewhere that gave me room to grow? What IF I release control of how I grow (how big and how fast) to God, while simply cooperating and trusting Him with the process? What IF?

I have witnessed too much to take it lightly.

I have been shown too much to turn my back.

I can't un-see what it is I've seen.

I  realize that there are some who just don't get it. It's ok. A year ago, I might have been more concerned with this. More apprehensive to move unless others around me saw what I saw. Needing confirmation and approval before taking a step. Asking for permission from others before placing my trust in Him.

But here's what I've learned...This process is between me and God (don't get me wrong...every one around me is part of the journey, but the only one I'm accountable to is HIM). It is in HIS hands that I place my trust. With HIM I place my hope. To HIM I release my expectations.

Is it scary? Yep. Am I nervous? Sure. But the hope I've been given surpasses any fear. And the peace surpasses understanding.

There is nothing...I mean nothing...like being inside the will of God. Conversely, the same is true.

When God makes it clear, my job is to listen...and move. The moving part is usually where we get stuck (and when I say "we", I mean "I"). Thankfully, I've reached a point where moving is the only option.

So with that...a handful of faith, along with some intentional 'positioning'...I am stepping out. Leaving my survival mode where it belongs. I'm looking forward, in hopeful anticipation, to the growth that lies ahead. This blog is one of several pieces to this intricate step of faith.

And if you happen to see me and think for one minute that there aren't any blossoms to show for the move...

Please be patient with me.

God may still be watering.