From outside the planter

November 13, 2006

By Julie Eller

“I am the vine; you are the branches” (John 15:5, NIV).

My husband gave me a gorgeous fuchsia summer before last. Hanging in a basket on our back patio, I couldn’t pass the dining room window without turning my gaze on its blossoms, a profusion of dainty pink blooms intertwined with deep green leaves, spilling over the confines of its container. Every few days, we would lovingly tend the plant that brought us so much enjoyment.

As fall approached, the blossoms began to wither, finally falling, one by one, to the surface below. The deep green of the leaves faded. As temperatures dropped, we decided we should stop watering the plant, leaving it hanging in the basket as November brought Seattle rains.

Caught up in the bustle of the approaching holiday season, we focused on the beautiful decorations inside. The plant we’d enjoyed during the summer months was far from our thoughts. When we next noticed the fuchsia, we were saddened to see it had obviously died; its vibrant beauty reduced to a cluster of dried sticks protruding from the soil.

Months passed and spring once again whispered its soft secrets outdoors. Doing some clean-up work outside, our attention turned to the fuchsia, as we debated discarding the plant and saving the basket, deciding instead to try to start watering it again.

Within a short time, signs of new life began to appear; green shoots erupting on the stem. Almost unable to believe our eyes, we pruned the dead plant aggressively, ending up with a pile of dead twigs and dried leaves lying in a heap to the side. All that remained was the heart stem growing from the soil, the tiny shoots of new growth speaking of the promise of beauty to come.

It occurred to me the fuchsia represents my own life in more ways than I care to admit. When the dark days have come, my negative and discouraged thoughts have done much to wither the newness from my heart, leaving my soul as dry and withered as the fuchsia in winter. There follows a time of stilled growth. I yearn for refreshment and fulfillment, awaiting the Master’s hand to trim away the dead remnants of yesterday and prepare me for the growth to come.

Unlike the fuchsia, though, sometimes I protest the necessary pruning of that which can only stifle the new growth; I clutch at the dry and wasted pieces of my life He would remove for my benefit. Perhaps you’ve heard the saying, “Think outside the box.” My challenge is, “See yourself from outside the planter.” Because I realize sometimes the things I think are vital to my happiness, even my existence, are extraneous and superfluous in God’s master plan for my life.

I’ve stumbled upon a simple truth: As a master gardener plots his space and visualizes the end result of his labors, the Lord has planted the seeds in my heart that, if tended well and kept free of contamination, will grow into things of beauty. Unlike the flowers, though, I am called to participate in fuller measure with my own Master Gardener.

Unlike plants, we never go into dormancy. There is no “down time” for those who walk in God’s path. With His help, we will be able to survive those dark days when the brightness of hope and prosperity is hidden from us. With His help, we will also learn to welcome the truths taught by the One who provides the pruning shears we must turn upon our own lives.

Only by doing so will we be able to take an honest look at the “hanging basket” that is our life, removing what we know to be unsightly and allowing room for the roots and branches of the potential within to blossom forth into beauty.

My challenge is to monitor the planter that is my life regularly, remembering the view from my angle may differ greatly from the view another has from the outside. I’m just a tiny little branch, hidden among many others, but by His grace, I will bear fruit in His time and with His direction.

Because He has planted me right where I need to be.

Julie Eller lives in Kirkland, Wash.