Grateful for My Gardener

This new growth sprung from entirely bare branches many told me to give up on. This is my Magnolia tree in my back yard. It was looking so puny last fall, I trimmed it back- a pretty drastic pruning (not supposed to do this I have since learned). I have been very reflective of this tree as I have watched it slowly bloom this spring.

I first saw a tree bare, sticks only, looking dead. I thought, I should get a pretty Crepe Myrtle and place it there so I can look out my back window and gaze at something beautiful...instead of something basically dead. I decided to give it the summer and see what happened...this after Stan's aunt came over and just bent the twigs of the tree and said, I think it is still alive! She is an avid gardener and I trusted her judgement.

I decided to water it, to feed it miracle grow, lime, anything I could think of to help give it every opportunity to survive.

A few weeks later, I saw what I thought was a little green bud...it was and there were several! The closer I looked, the more green growth I saw. I was amazed and excited!

Now, each time I gaze out my back window, I see new growth. It is really starting to thrive and I have every bit if faith that it will survive and be a beautiful centerpiece to my back yard.

I have since learned that it takes a good 10 years for a Magnolia tree to become established. We are at year 6.

All of this thinking and planning with this tree got me thinking about how Christ sees me and how he prunes me. I am so thankful he has not given up on me when I have looked "dead", instead he has his living water and spiritual nourishment available to me all the time, ready for me to grow and bloom. There are those times when he prunes me. Motherhood has and still is a time of pruning for me. He continually strips away what I thought was important, cutting back the mess and the dead growth, even making me feel bare at times- cold, wet and thirsty.

I am so grateful that he offers to quench my thirst daily, moment by moment. He never thinks of giving up on me. Unlike the fickle gardener I can be, Christ is not. He is so patient. He never thinks of replacing me with something new and more beautiful. He loves me just as I am, broken branches, bare branches, and all.

I am so grateful He is my gardener. I am so grateful he loves me and that even in the things of this world that seem so simple and mundane as a once thought dying tree, He speaks to my heart. How about you?