Cockroaches. A bat. Flowers. Rain.
What do these three things have in common you ask? They all are what has taken place during the second year of our marriage, summer edition. And we’re only in month #3 of our second year… hmmm maybe I shouldn’t have said that.
This summer has been rough in several ways if we are talking about circumstances. However, let me give a quick praise that all of these things happened in year 2, not year 1, of our marriage. Year 1 consisted of learning one another’s morning routines, food preferences, bedtime schedules, how to balance “alone time” when you’re not really alone ever and dividing the list of household chores evenly. If we were learning all of that while carrying what we carry this year, let’s just say, it would be a lot. A lot, a lot.
Now before I tell you about the cockroaches and the bat, I must confess to you that I’m literally one of the most impatient humans you will ever meet. Not with people really, but with circumstances. I’m always in a hurry and I have this annoyance of being late. But why? Why am I so impatient? After some killer heart searching, some tears, a week-long headache and a battle with a summer cold I have found, that honestly, it’s because I want to be in control.
Not full control. That’s too much pressure for this girl. (I have absolutely no problem saying and meaning my husband is the head of our household. Burn your cyber bra on someone else’s blog) I just want to be able to control some outcomes. Think of it like a board game. I have no problem not being the creator of the game, or the designer of the cards that are played with, I just want to choose whether my piece moves left or right when the dice is rolled.
One early summer day we got the news that Ryan didn’t get a job that we so desperately wanted. We had been praying for it, crying for it and dreaming of it for what seems years. We were so certain that this is where he was supposed to be. Turns out, we were wrong. And to admit you are wrong is not a fun thing. To let a dream die is an even harder thing.
Upon hearing this news I sat with my journal open and pen in hand but nothing came out. But I had this feeling, soft as a whisper. “Ariel, plant a garden…”. Readers, I have to tell you I don’t like bugs. I don’t mind dirt, but I like to be clean even more. But still, the thought kept pressing in on my heart for several days. “Ariel… plant a garden”.
So to get out my frustration and to distract me from the heartbreak, I drove to Lowe’s. Upon returning I raked the front flower bed, weeded it, put some nice soil down and planted my three little flowers about two feet apart. Then, I put seeds into flower pots and hoped for the best.
As it turns out, gardens are hard. You have to weed them. You have to water them every morning and evening. You have to protect them. You have to basically hope against all sight that the little seed you just buried will grow up to be something. You have to trust in what you can’t see. While you have control in some ways, you’re faced with the realization that you really don’t. No matter how much water you provide or sunshine you plant it near, it’s not up to you for its growth.
It’s not up to you at all.
Then, all of a sudden we found out the more terrible news. A current opportunity would be ending soon. Our security blanket was slowly being ripped to shreds. Feeling naked and stripped bare of all want, I just sat on our porch one day and got covered up by the rain (looking back that’s another reason I got my cold). I just sat there mourning the loss of another opportunity instead of realizing what it might bring in the future. I didn’t realize I put the seed in the ground, but I hadn’t buried it yet. In a way, I hadn’t truly put it to death yet. I was still hanging on. I wasn’t trusting.
As the layers unfolded and my fears were labeled, I realized my little flowers actually loved the rain. Looking down from the porch, you could see my little garden was starting to bloom. They looked so happy in the rain, not sad the sun was gone.
How much do we miss by waiting for the rainbow we forget to praise and dance for God for the rain? For the trouble. For the heartache.
Readers, I have complete faith that our dream will come back to us. Maybe not in the way I want it to, but it will come back. It feels like yesterday I was planting the green leaves but today, today they are flowers.
