Love the simple you, God does!
Luke
8:4-15
My name is Pansy.
My first home was on the Path of Trampled Feet and Troubles Everywhere; the busy
pathway between there and somewhere else. There was never a rush hour, rather,
it was a crush hour. No nourishment or
rest was to be found, it was like the skating line at Manhattan Square in
December. Their feet pounded. Their mouths talked, screamed, and chattered
about life’s problems and struggles. It was no place to thrive. I hoped someone would see my nearly crushed
existence and lend a shovel, spade or hand; I’d have taken any help, and
thankfully did, it was the Gardener’s hands that gently moved me.
I was carried to the empty crevices of the
Rock Garden. A beautiful place, but
jumpin’ junipers, you’ve got to have dirt in those cracks in order to
grow! It wasn’t the Gardener’s
fault. He planted me in the perfect
place, but the rains came, they poured and poured and poured. If I would have
had more roots I might have made it, but coming from the Path of Trampled Feet
and Troubles Everywhere my roots were weak and sparse. Again, I found myself in
an empty place, backed into the crevice of death. You can probably guess who
came to my rescue. Oh, for the gentle touch of the Gardener’s hands.
It was
when I saw Him walking me towards the Roses that my heart raced with
excitement. To be planted in the
grandeur of the Rose Bed. I will be
noticed! Oohs and aahs will be my
accolades; I will be planted among the beautiful, the admired, the rich and the
famous of the plant world, the Roses.
Here is where I discovered life is not all
it appears to be in the raised beds of beauty.
If I’d have know then what I know now, but, how could I? The Gardner knew my heart well enough to know
I had to work through the thorns of life’s seemingly glorious pleasures. Those pleasures were the thorns that nearly
choked the blossoms off my fragile stems.
Their beauty was more important to them than mine. TheRoses slowly crept upon me scratching me
with the reminder that they were fragrant as well as beautiful and I was no
match for them.
I was out of my league, slowly being
suffocated by sophistication and charm. I was simply Pansy, not Rose. Once again I found myself wilting, struggling
to be noticed; I hoped somehow the Gardener would rescue me from the deceptive
flowers of grandeur. When at last His
gentle hands surrounded me and carefully lifted me from the thorns I quietly
sobbed beseeching Him, “Please do not forsake me, my strength is gone”. He
quietly whispered, “I will never abandon the work of my own hands”.
In His infinite wisdom He understood my
now broken heart and weakened roots.
Carefully He planted me in the New Garden among the other weak, wilted
and broken flowers. Although withered
from our own deceptions of life we were not dead, wounded maybe, but far from
dead. Daily we accepted the watering
from His loving words and together we quietly hummed His praises, thankful for
the simplicity of the New Garden. We
grew and became vital and beautiful flowers who cared little for the oohs and
aahs of the visitors to The New Garden. It
was there I came to understand that this Pansy is never a pansy unless I
deceive myself into believing I am something like a Rose. Never again would I
covet the beauty of another, or allow life’s troubles to stunt my growth. As
long as I remained in the New Garden and flourished as a Pansy I would remain
vital. It is at the hands of the
Wonderful Gardner that my beauty flourishes.
I hope I’m talking to other Pansies who
have been moved from the Path Of Trampled Feet and Troubles Everywhere, to the
empty crevices of the Rock Garden. to the grandeur of the Rose Bed. Perhaps, at last, you have been planted in the
beautiful soil of the New Garden too.
Simple as we are, we were never meant to thrive without the wise words
and the gentle hands of our Loving Gardener. Through our travels we have
learned our purpose: be humble, live simply, grow in faith and trust our
Gardener, after all, we’re Pansies, not
Roses!
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