Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells and cockleshells
And pretty maids all in a row.
Ah, parenting, that glorious endeavor in which we frail mothers and fathers seek to nurture our children to blossom like the tender flowers of a beautiful garden... I don't know about silver bells or cockleshells, but "pretty maids all in a row?" HA! They aren't always pretty, they aren't all maids, and very rarely - if ever -are they all in a row.
The problem is that, unlike flower seeds, which typically come in neat little packages with detailed instructions for growing, children come with no instructions. Sure, there are general principles to follow - love unconditionally, teach diligently, correct consistently, etc. But when it comes to the specifics, nada. There is no script, no outline of what to say or do when our children say or do x, y, or z.
On top of that, often we don't even know what sort of "flower" has fallen to our care. You might get a nice little flower who greets you with a cheery face each morning and requires virtually no care, a flower that will indeed grow, blossom, and spread its cheeriness whether you tend it or not. But you might just as easily find yourself with a rare, mysterious plant requiring delicate care lest it grow not into a beautiful, fruitful plant, but a tangled mass of... of... of who knows what? (Audrey comes to mind, if you want to go to the theatrical extreme).
Awhile ago, my friend posted a picture to Facebook of a tomato plant that had grown to occupy an entire corner of her yard, extending above the height of her privacy fence. Underneath the photo, she commented,
I love gardening and HATE pruning my plants. It seems so counterintuitive to me, and yet these TWO tomato plants that have gotten completely out of control remind me that in the garden, as well as with my children and in my own life, things are always easier to take care at the beginning BEFORE it reaches this point!
We don't necessarily know if God has blessed us with roses or dandelions, tomatoes or strawberries, pansies or oak trees, but whatever we have, we must prune. And that isn't always easy. At times pruning seems, as my friend observed in her garden, counterintuitive. We must step out in faith, not only to prune, but to discern those areas in our children's lives that need pruning, those that need tender care, and those that just need to be left alone.
It's a tough job, and my friend's words regarding pruning came at just the right time, as we were facing a dire need to prune and nurture one child in particular. I am so very thankful for my friend's encouragement, for the encouragement of others, for the prayers of many, and most of all, for the wisdom and leading of the Master Gardener who knows both what sort of plants He's given us to tend and what sort of plants we ourselves are. It was looking pretty stormy for a couple months last fall, but through a few changes and a bit of restructuring, God has blessed our little garden with brighter days. I am so glad to say that the little plant I - in a less than inspired state of heart - sort of feared was growing disastrously out of control has become a very special blessing in my life, embracing me enthusiastically and showing me daily that our struggles to nurture and prune and leave to grow have not been in vain.
I still couldn't tell you what sort of plants we're raising behind our figurative white picket fence, nor could I tell you exactly what varieties Geoff and I are. But I can tell you that by the grace of God, by creep or by leap, our garden grows wondrously.
The problem is that, unlike flower seeds, which typically come in neat little packages with detailed instructions for growing, children come with no instructions. Sure, there are general principles to follow - love unconditionally, teach diligently, correct consistently, etc. But when it comes to the specifics, nada. There is no script, no outline of what to say or do when our children say or do x, y, or z.
On top of that, often we don't even know what sort of "flower" has fallen to our care. You might get a nice little flower who greets you with a cheery face each morning and requires virtually no care, a flower that will indeed grow, blossom, and spread its cheeriness whether you tend it or not. But you might just as easily find yourself with a rare, mysterious plant requiring delicate care lest it grow not into a beautiful, fruitful plant, but a tangled mass of... of... of who knows what? (Audrey comes to mind, if you want to go to the theatrical extreme).
Awhile ago, my friend posted a picture to Facebook of a tomato plant that had grown to occupy an entire corner of her yard, extending above the height of her privacy fence. Underneath the photo, she commented,
I love gardening and HATE pruning my plants. It seems so counterintuitive to me, and yet these TWO tomato plants that have gotten completely out of control remind me that in the garden, as well as with my children and in my own life, things are always easier to take care at the beginning BEFORE it reaches this point!
We don't necessarily know if God has blessed us with roses or dandelions, tomatoes or strawberries, pansies or oak trees, but whatever we have, we must prune. And that isn't always easy. At times pruning seems, as my friend observed in her garden, counterintuitive. We must step out in faith, not only to prune, but to discern those areas in our children's lives that need pruning, those that need tender care, and those that just need to be left alone.
It's a tough job, and my friend's words regarding pruning came at just the right time, as we were facing a dire need to prune and nurture one child in particular. I am so very thankful for my friend's encouragement, for the encouragement of others, for the prayers of many, and most of all, for the wisdom and leading of the Master Gardener who knows both what sort of plants He's given us to tend and what sort of plants we ourselves are. It was looking pretty stormy for a couple months last fall, but through a few changes and a bit of restructuring, God has blessed our little garden with brighter days. I am so glad to say that the little plant I - in a less than inspired state of heart - sort of feared was growing disastrously out of control has become a very special blessing in my life, embracing me enthusiastically and showing me daily that our struggles to nurture and prune and leave to grow have not been in vain.
I still couldn't tell you what sort of plants we're raising behind our figurative white picket fence, nor could I tell you exactly what varieties Geoff and I are. But I can tell you that by the grace of God, by creep or by leap, our garden grows wondrously.
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