So I have this plant.
When my grandmother passed away it was really the only thing I was able to keep from her. The only living thing. And I had one goal. Keeping Plant alive. As long as Plant was living...a living, flourishing piece of my grandmother was still with me. It was like some imaginary connection between heart and soul. Some reflection of her every time I gazed at Plant.
Plant sat in my kitchen window. Every time I washed the dishes she was my silent little reminder of everything grandma was to me. Beauty and grace and love and excellence and elegance. Everything she was always made me better. She was life. So much life inside of her. The way she took on every day and every task and every hobby in joy and celebration and deep hearted enjoyment. There aren't a lot of people who live life so fully. We all know a few though. Those people who sharpen us and make us better.
But Plant began to struggle and in my kitchen window she began to shrivel and die. For two years I fought to keep her alive. And my resuscitation efforts seemed to be failing.
Then in November on our trip to Cozumel my mind was set on returning to Miami with another treasure. A hammock. To sit outside my front window. In this perfect little nook that had been neglected and overlooked since we had moved in.
And I hung my beige Mexican baby in that forgotten little spot with transparent curtains which automatically transformed the space into romance and peace. A little slice of heaven right outside my window. And finally only one thing was missing. Something in the corner on a tiny wire stand.
Plant.
And Grandma's plant was my final touch to coziness and serenity.
And in it Plant has flourished. In the open air. The God sent South Florida breeze. Cool crisp evenings lounging, meditating, loving my time in my secret nook.
And it occurred to me. Plant needed more. It needed fresh air and real sunlight and a new place. And maybe that's something for all of us to figure out in this new season. To get out. To get alone. To breath fresh air. Not to stand still. To lay in crisp cool night air. To be. To find contentment in that secret place. Sounds like something deeply profound I discovered in Scripture. To drink in the sunlight and to find solace even in the darkness. To allow God to breathe fresh breath into our heart and soul and mind and spirit. In the way that only He can. And to flourish and grow deep in Him, rooted and healthy exactly as He intended.
Plant thank you for living. Abuela thank you for being a difference maker in my life. God thank you for the secret places and for the ability to love deeply and to think profound thoughts in that Cozumel hammock. I have a feeling there will be a lot of sunset prayers out here and I hope I live in this word each and every day because this truth can keep me and allow me to flourish and it's all I really need to know...
“He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.”
Psalms 91:1-2
