I love flowers. I have always cultivated a garden in our yard, picking out new plant species to add to the chaotic botanical mix in front of our home. Nurseries have a magnetic pull on me in the springtime, enticing me in to choose new flowers for a new season. After surviving six months of long nights, gray days, and frozen earth, stopping by the garden department of Kingma’s can be a costly venture. Choosing colorful flats and pots of enthusiastic flowers and digging in the dirt to re-home them is life-giving for me. The upkeep of maintaining control against encroaching weeds (that thrive effortlessly!) is not my favorite part of gardening! Out of love for those flowers I intentionally planted, I periodically tackle the war against intruders. Each bloom shines a message of gratitude! As fall begins to signal its arrival, I am savoring the beauty of asters, autumn sedum and resilient mums.
I have many stories of failed plantings. Freesia, which I appreciate for its fragrance, does not like the Michigan climate. Jacob’s ladder resists perennial presence each season, even after purchasing healthy pots from a favorite greenhouse. At one of our homes in Grand Rapids, morning glories grew profusely from a large barrel planter on the side of our driveway. It climbed along the fence and provided a remarkable blue splash of color well into fall. We moved out of that house in 1993 and every attempt I have made since then to recreate their happy presence in my yard has failed. Not everything responds positively to my green thumb efforts.
One flower that has consistently mocked my gardening skills is the sunflower. I remember seeing a picture in a magazine years ago of a playhouse for children whose walls were tall sunflowers. What a fun idea, I thought! I could see my young kids’ imaginations flourishing in a setting like that. I dug a rectangular perimeter to this floral fort, leaving an opening for children to run in and out. I sank seeds at regular intervals into the dirt. Excited, I waited to the miracle of growth that summer sun and rain would bring.
Nothing.
I have tried other times since then, my children long since grown, to intentionally plant these spectacular flowers in and around my house. My studied efforts have not yielded even one happy face brimming with seeds. I gave up years ago and learned that sunflowers would appear in front of my house–but no thanks to anything I did.
Take a look at my front garden now. It is wildly out of control after a summer of growth. The aster grows to four feet tall, leafy green all summer until late August. Then those non-descript plants burst with purple blooms. I’ve learned to wait. I’ve also got an impressive number of milkweed plants in my front gardens, providing nourishment for monarchs. I don’t favor them as plants but I keep them in place for the butterflies. I have low-to-the-ground mums that stay quiet all summer until winter threatens. Then they show their true colors.
But one plant is a showstopper when I look out my kitchen window at the front lawn: a sunflower plant that is easily eight feet tall. The stalk now supports nine heavy blooms, no small engineering feat. Already the finches are stopping by with some regularity, hungering for the day when the seeds provide a feast for them and their feathered friends.
The funny thing is, I did nothing to deserve this striking floral showpiece that sticks out her neck to show off her beauty. What I did was to keep my birdfeeder filled with a mixture that contains black oil sunflower seeds. The birds do the rest. As they peck at the feeder, cracking open resistant seeds with impressive acuity, some fall to the ground. Unnoticed by birds, chipmunks and other interested creatures who call my garden home, they tentatively open to the hospitality of the soil, the warmth of the sun and the hydration of the rain. They courageously begin to put down roots, fragile tendrils initially. Their journey, stretching toward the sky, has begun.
There are limits to my creative powers.
I’ve learned countless times that the best gifts in my life do not come from the labor of my hands. Certainly my job is to use my gifts and direct them where they can best benefit my world. But my energy is not what brings about the most crucial growth in my life. God shows up with spectacular force to bless me with the perfect answer to my prayers. There are times God has provided for my needs in ways more perfect than I ever could have imagined or dared to request. I believe firmly that God’s calling card is surprise. Where our own efforts fail, the Creator of the Garden of Eden and all subsequent gardens since that first dawn, shows up and shows off!
It is always a humbling reminder to me of where–or in Whom–I need to place my trust.
Jesus reminded His disciples of their intrinsic worth that they neither earned nor deserved: “Look at the lilies of the field and how they grow. They don’t work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. And if God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, he will certainly care for you.”
Noted. A reminder I need continually. As my garden offers a final show of color and leaves on trees begin to change, I anticipate a new season of growth that will, miraculously, start all over again as winter turns to spring. With no help from me, God will provide what is needed so that flowers will return, birds will sing and caterpillars will be fed. With anticipation I look forward to how the Creator of all good gifts will show off in surprising ways that bring joy to my heart.
Preaching Life 