My wife loves plants. I love beautiful places that encourage a restful heart. The result is that I have learned to love gardening and the general niftyness of the plant world.
Caring for plants can also open our eyes to larger truths. For example: After thinking over the relationships I’ve been blessed with, I’ve concluded that people are what gardeners call “part-shade/part-sun” plants.
As you may know, a full-sun plant does best when stuck out to fend for itself, soaking up the sun with no shade, protective or otherwise. (Think daisies in a field.)
A full-shade plant cannot ever be challenged by direct sunlight, or it withers. It needs a constant covering, and lots of water. (If you’re familiar with hostas, you know what this looks like.)
Part-shade/part-sun plants need protection from the sun’s most brutal rays. But they also need something to reach for – they need sunlight overhead to become strong and healthy. They do best growing in dappled shade, near, but not beneath, older and larger plants.
We, like they, need the help of more mature friends – people who have survived our current stage of life. But we don’t thrive if our every move is coached, corrected and kept “safe.” We grow strongest when we’re given a goal to shoot for, protection from our worst errors, and allowed to work the rest out for ourselves.
This can be especially challenging for parents. Scripture and instinct should keep us from abandoning our young sprouts to the withering sun. But do we bury them in shade, producing wispy, wind-blown tendrils instead of sturdy little shoots?
Maybe nurturing our children means talking through issues of culture and Christian morality instead of hiding from them. It might even mean saying “yes” one week and “no” the next, depending on whether their souls are growing bleached (too much sun) or spindly (not enough). It certainly means remembering that they are living, growing things like plants, not lumber to be assembled.
People are partial-shade plants. So let’s love like birch trees.
You can find him at JamesDWitmer.com.
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Love this metaphor as I am also a gardener. And a mom. And sometimes I tend to ‘over coach’ my children, which in turn affects their confidence. This was beautifully written.
Thanks, Flachmom – I’m glad it was encouraging. If, as a gardening mom, you like garden pictures, you might enjoy a peek at my wife’s blog: wifemothergardener.blogspot.com. It’s beautiful. Or I’m biased. Or both. Regardless, thanks for reading!
Terrific post, James.
Ever since Julie’s gardening workshop at Northwind Manor, I’ve been a woman possessed. I want to find beautiful things that will grow in the weird conditions around our house, and since I have zero experience or expertise, I’m having to do a lot of research. I’m afraid of killing everything, of wasting the time and money I’ve spent, etc.
But I keep remembering the way Julie tore apart a small cluster of moss phlox and slipped it into the soil in three or four different places, knowing that each section would grow toward the others and they’d all meet in the end. She spoke easily about moving plants that aren’t thriving or whose placement you don’t like. She said that gardeners end up killing plenty of plants.
On the whole, she was just confident. That’s what stood out. She didn’t poke the plants with a ten-foot pole. She didn’t tremble in fear. She dove right into the work, knowing it wouldn’t always turn out like she’d hoped, but trusting that plants are sturdy little things. When left to themselves, they take over the planet. 🙂
All that to say: You are so right. There is much, much wisdom to be gained from gardening.
Thanks, Helena. You’re right, there’s a confidence – call it faith – that brings freedom to all our work, whether gardening or parenting. I could always use more of it. 🙂
Amen and amen.
Thanks James.
Thanks for reading!