top of page

getting to the root

My mother gifted me with a gorgeous potted plant...petunias, I think. They are on my back porch and they make me smile every time I catch a glance of them. Mark my word. They will be dead by Friday.

The gift of gardening, I have not.

I recently attempted to plant wildflower seeds in a weed infested flower bed out back, and nothing but the same old weeds grew in their place least, according to my husband, who pulled up any and all sprouting, that is what they were. I, on the other hand, was remaining confident. I still believed those flowers would bloom. Amongst the weeds. We just had to wait. And of course, wildflowers sort of are ya know...there is that. But I digress...a gardener, I am not.

And who knows if what my husband pulled up were my wildflowers or not, because honestly...I didn't ever water the soil. Although it rained for forty days and forty nights so I figured I was in the clear. But I am good to admit...I don't have the patience for the actual work of gardening. I cut corners. I don't dig the weeds up at the root...I just sort of pull them out superficially. I make the soil look like its ready for new, healthy growth...but because of those roots...the weeds take over, and I am left with no wildflowers.

I know. Sad story, right?

Or not?

Because the best lessons I learn usually come from the sad story.

What's the lesson for me today?

In order to bloom, we need to get to the root.

And we don't like to do that.

This means getting in the dirt.

It requires kneeling and bowing down.

It means digging up all of those things we have buried so well.

It means filth under our nails, and smelly sweat on our necks, and hours of work with out immediate results.

It probably means unraveling.

Facing the weeds and still going deeper.

It means resisting the temptation to just buy a pretty plant and stick it on top and make everything look nice, ignoring what's really happening beneath the surface.

And it can feel like such a set back, can't it?

It can even feel too overwhelming.

Like peeling back onion layers it can look like there is just too much to get through.

Like starting the "clean your pantry" project, when half way through you stare at all of the cans and boxes and spices on your kitchen counter and you wish you never started the stupid project in the first place.

Getting to the root does this.

It makes a mess and at some point you are going to wish you never started.

But the bigger disaster?

The bigger disaster would be to go through your entire life carrying all those useless cans and boxes and spices.

The bigger tragedy would be all those pretty wildflowers that were dying to bloom, if only those weeds were not in their way.

bottom of page