There is a lesson, I find, in my ivy. Silly I know.
Here goes the plant lady again.
But listen, last night I was taking a few pictures of it and noticing
the way that it lifts its fronds towards the window in order to get the maximum
sunlight.
I
know that I for one am very guilty of not reaching out for the nourishment that
I need. In fact, I often hide myself
away. When what I should be doing is
reaching out my hands, towards our Heavenly Father. For he is the one who truly nourishes
us. As sunlight and water nourish my
ivy, God nourishes me deep down where I need it the most.
But,
why then, am I so reluctant to reach out?
Why do I feel that I must do this thing on my own? That I am self-sufficient? When I begin to do this, to act this way,
then I become like my poor Stephanotis.
I had this beautiful stephanotis.
Late this summer, into this fall, I was getting these glossy green
growth on it. I even hoped to see it
bloom. But then, it started to
wither. It died. I don’t know why, other than it was not
receiving something that was necessary to its growth and development. Without that thing that it required, it
slowly faded and died.
So, I try to remember to reach out. To others, yes, but most importantly to the
one who loves me even when I’m unlovable.
The one who died to save me. The
one who sees all of my deepest fears and the skeletons that hide in my closets
and loves me anyhow.
I am entirely blessed.
I am alive, I love my life, and I love my job. It is beautiful up here, hidden away in the
pines and birches. So, I reach out my
arms towards the Son, as my ivy reaches out its arms towards the Sun. The giver of nourishment.
