Always, Only Smiling
I find myself acting much like a growing houseplant these days. I've been picked up and placed in different parts of the home many times. But I am happy to sit and be here, not moving much. I need and crave the nutrients of tender-loving care. But I do not snatch it up greedily. I'm waiting, patiently.
I keep on growing in the meantime, blooming anew as time walks on by. New ideas, new feelings, new thoughts, new habits. I'm also losing some things. Old dreams, old friends, old passions, old baggage. They fall off without making a sound. And I see them there, lying all around me. Withered and dry. Cracked and faded. Sometimes I find myself panicking - I cannot pick them up! But they wouldn't grow back, even if I tried or really wanted to keep them. After all, they're old leaves. I remind myself that eventually, they will fade out of memory. They're either swept or blown away by the unpredictable breeze. I eventually only remember them because of the divots and bumps on the stem that they left behind. Even these bruises will eventually grow over.
I've sat here awhile. And what I've noticed is that the leaves are less fragile. The stem is more durable. My color is brighter.
I have grown.
The most surprising discovery is that there buds are beginning to appear. I thought that only leaves could possibly grow. After all, that's the only thing that I know! I am realizing now how wrong I was. Worrying about this and that leaf falling. About the dull sprouts or slow growth. All that worrying...when in reality, I was a different plant entirely.
My branches are following the sunlight. Weaving into a beautiful dance of lights. The sun comes up every day, and it sets every night. I enjoy the every day realities that are the sun, the wind, and the weather. But some days the clouds come. Those days are difficult, and sometimes painful. I lose track of the sun and feel my strength fade. But this is part of existence.
My favorite part is when my Caretaker comes and pours a cool stream of water into my simple pot. I can almost feel my branches reaching out to Him as He comes. Despite the leaves falling, the clouds coming, or my slow growing, He always comes. And then I remember. Those every day realities are not what give my small life meaning. From the bottom of my roots to the top of my leaves, I long for time with my Caretaker. When He comes, I am fulfilled. Just to spend time with Him and to be with Him...that is worth every fallen leaf and every bruise grown over.
And I've noticed that when He comes - He is always, only smiling.
I keep on growing in the meantime, blooming anew as time walks on by. New ideas, new feelings, new thoughts, new habits. I'm also losing some things. Old dreams, old friends, old passions, old baggage. They fall off without making a sound. And I see them there, lying all around me. Withered and dry. Cracked and faded. Sometimes I find myself panicking - I cannot pick them up! But they wouldn't grow back, even if I tried or really wanted to keep them. After all, they're old leaves. I remind myself that eventually, they will fade out of memory. They're either swept or blown away by the unpredictable breeze. I eventually only remember them because of the divots and bumps on the stem that they left behind. Even these bruises will eventually grow over.
I've sat here awhile. And what I've noticed is that the leaves are less fragile. The stem is more durable. My color is brighter.
I have grown.
The most surprising discovery is that there buds are beginning to appear. I thought that only leaves could possibly grow. After all, that's the only thing that I know! I am realizing now how wrong I was. Worrying about this and that leaf falling. About the dull sprouts or slow growth. All that worrying...when in reality, I was a different plant entirely.
My branches are following the sunlight. Weaving into a beautiful dance of lights. The sun comes up every day, and it sets every night. I enjoy the every day realities that are the sun, the wind, and the weather. But some days the clouds come. Those days are difficult, and sometimes painful. I lose track of the sun and feel my strength fade. But this is part of existence.
My favorite part is when my Caretaker comes and pours a cool stream of water into my simple pot. I can almost feel my branches reaching out to Him as He comes. Despite the leaves falling, the clouds coming, or my slow growing, He always comes. And then I remember. Those every day realities are not what give my small life meaning. From the bottom of my roots to the top of my leaves, I long for time with my Caretaker. When He comes, I am fulfilled. Just to spend time with Him and to be with Him...that is worth every fallen leaf and every bruise grown over.
And I've noticed that when He comes - He is always, only smiling.
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