And now a word from a garden...

Four years ago I wrote some devotioinal little things I called "Plant Ponderings" that I emailed to folks. I'm going to post them here for those of you who either can't recall what I wrote, really enjoyed what I wrote then...as well as for the new folks who have never read these.

My creative writing juices are tapped out right now. I don't get it. Something is in the way...I dunno...I do know that I've been very overwhelmed...so maybe I'm just using a lot of my energy to tread water right now...keeping my chin up. At any rate, revisiting my garden was refreshing...I hope you enjoy your visit...

"Walk with me into my garden...let's see what's planted:

I want to take a moment to talk to you about houseplants. I have one plant in my home that I think I've taken care of for about 15 years. At least! With an occasional watering (and an even more infrequent dusting) it seems to do just fine. Doesn't ask too much of me. All in all, it's a pretty easy green thing to have around. Just the way I like it.

A few years ago I received a gorgeous African violet as a gift from some co-workers in my office. While I had never taken care of a violet before, still I thought, "How hard can it be? It's a plant, right?" and I treated it as I treated my other houseplant. Badly. Oh, it did alright those two days at my office; but when I took it home, I think I had that violet in my house a total of 39 minutes before it shriveled up and died. Died a violent, violet death...you might say. And you know what?

I decided then and there that I wouldn't mess with violets. Ever. They were too hard to take care of! Too "high maintenance" for me. I'd stick with the easy houseplants, thank you very much. Besides, African violets weren't meant to live in Central Illinois anyway, am I right?

One day I was visiting someone who actually raised violets. As we admired them, I said, "Why do you bother with these? They're so....needy! You have to take such special care and mess with them all the time, don't you?"

She smiled, "Yes, they require a good deal of care...but see how beautiful they are? And I don't have too many, just a few...so it's not so bad."

Which leads me to my pondering for today: Is there a plant in your life that's a little on the 'high maintenance' side? Do you avoid taking the time to care for it's needs? Have you even neglected one to the point where it just 'shriveled up'? My friend didn't have a whole roomful of violets...she only had a few. As she cared for them, she benefitted from their beauty. Maybe you need to look closely at the plants in your garden.

And while I'm thinking about it, don't neglect the easy-going plants in your life either! While they seem to take care of themselves, they still enjoy being appreciated. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go talk to a certain houseplant. Why don't you go talk to yours? From what gardeners tell me...plants like that a lot.

Every plant could use a good word. Thanks for coming to my garden today."

Like...fer shure!

Once again, I think I'm making up for lost time by writing a really long entry. And part of me wants to apologize for that...but then again...when I think about it...how much should what you think of my writing matter to me??? Hm....read on, my friends.

GLINDA: (spoken) And of course, from the moment she was born,she was - well - different...

MIDWIFE: It's coming!

FATHER: Now?

MIDWIFE: The baby's coming!

FATHER: And how!

MIDWIFE AND FATHER: I see a nose! I see a curl! It's a healthy, perfect, lovely, little -

FATHER: (spoken) Sweet Oz!

MOTHER: (spoken) What is it? What's wrong?

MIDWIFE: How can it be?

FATHER: What does it mean?

MIDWIFE: It's atrocious!

FATHERIt's obscene!

MIDWIFE AND FATHER: Like a froggy, ferny cabbage...the baby is unnaturally Green!

FATHER:(spoken) Take it away! Take it away!

-from Wicked, the Musical

In the musical Wicked, the main characters are Glinda (who you may remember from The Wizard of Oz as the "good witch") and Elphaba...the Wicked Witch of the West. This musical tells a different story about what went down in Oz...we learn more about the Wicked Witch and her beginnings...and we learn that things aren't always as they seem...

As illustrated in the scene above, when Elphaba is born she is rejected by her father. School is also a site of rejection...and so it goes. How many of us have been rejected?

I can recall in elementary school desperately wanting to be 'picked' for a team first...instead of last. Instead of hearing, "Oh...we'll take her, I guess."

Our huge ol' desire to be accepted. To fit in. To have people like us...love us...want us.

Sigh.

Sometimes it seems neverending. We want our family to accept us...our co-workers to like us...we want people to be happy...to find no faults with us.

And I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, my friends...but we are FAULT FILLED!

Yep. It's a fact. We all got 'em.

What do you do with rejection? What do you do when you get the letter that says 'we're sorry. Someone else has been given that job.'? When you pour out your heart to the person you love and they reply, "It's not you. It's me. Let's just be friends." When you submit a poem to Highlights magazine and it's like, the best poem you've ever written in your ENTIRE life (you're nine years old, after all!) and they send you a letter that says, "No thank you. We're not publishing your poem."

Maybe you do what I did.

Maybe...maybe you stop writing poetry. I mean, let's face it....Highlights magazine didn't think my poetry was good...so why write it? I determined then and there...based on some dumb editor's opinion...that my writing wasn't worth it...at least from a poetry perspective.

So I quit. Other than school assignments, poetry was a writing arena that I stayed far away from.

I let Highlights magazine define my writing ability.

Well, until I entered jr. high, that is. And I made some feeble attempts at writing some poetry about the way I felt and stuff. Just for me...just for fun.

Guess what? The other day, I found those poems (there were like, three)...and I let my jr. high-aged daughter read them.

I know...it was a courageous move on my part. I hadn't shown those poems to anyone. Heck, I don't even know why I kept the goofy things...(other than the fact that I keep (or used to) EVERYTHING...!)

I watched her face as she read them.

And you know what?

I found that I suddenly, desperately...wanted her approval of my poetry.

A second opinion, if you will.

And you know what?

She laughed out loud and said, "Pretty lame, Mom. Poetry is not your strong suit."

She then proceeded to mock each line...in her own 'cute' way.

Brutal.

Yeah, I know, I thought...my poetry is lame...so says you and the editors at Highlights...sigh.

Now...I know that my daughter loves me...but I still felt totally rejected. It was like I was nine years old again...and all that pain of the first rejection came back. With a vengance.

What do you do with rejection? When you don't feel accepted by others?

Like I said, I know my daughter loves me. But she didn't like my poetry.

So...does she like...me?

Someone said to me, "You may not like your family...but you still love them."

I've been thinking about that statement a lot. Loving people...but not liking them. As if the one is enough for us humans. And I'm not sure, but I'm thinking that love doesn't always = acceptance. I mean, I know my husband loves me...but there's a lot I can do that he'd find unacceptable.

There's doing. The things I do.

And there's being. The things I am.

Doing. Being. Loving. Liking.

Friends may not like the things we do...but they like the things we am. I mean, are.

They like us.

Makes me wonder about my relationship with God. I know He loves me...

but...

but...

does He like me?

Right now I'm reading a book by Brennan Manning called The Wisdom of Tenderness and this is what he says:

'In a moment of naked honesty, ask yourself, "Do I wholeheartedly trust that God likes me?" And do you trust that God likes you, not after you clean up your act and eliminate every trace of sin, selfishness, dishonesty, and degraded love; not after you develop a disciplined prayer life and spend ten years in Calcutta with Mother Teresa's missionaries; but in this moment, right now, right here, with all your faults and weaknesses?'

(italics are mine.)

I think it's pretty easy for most to understand that God loves us. But this idea of God liking me...is an interesting one, don't you think?

I mean...He understands me.

And He understands rejection.

Like, totally.

Wow.

When I realize and trust and believe that the God that created me actually likes me (in addition to His love for me)...I lose the fear of rejection. When I see myself in God's eyes...I can start to see myself for the person He made me to be...not the person who does things. Like write bad poetry.

And I find that maybe...just maybe...I'm okay. And I don't need the approval of others.

Hm....God as my BFF (best friend forever)....there's an even more interesting thought!

I like you. God likes you. And Highlights magazine don't matter!

Say that to yourself today...

Oh...and yeah...you can leave out the Highlights part.