I also have a brown thumb so I can really relate, both as a non-gardener but also for the spiritual application. God prunes us for our benefit even when it doesn’t feel like it. Usually I don’t realize how I’ve grown through the process until much later. Thanks, Dayle.

Tip of My Iceberg

photoI am not a gardener. I come from a long line of non-gardeners, people predisposed to killing things rather than growing things. This is not intentional on my part. It is, however, a dirty little reality that saddens my heart, especially living in Florida where most people can grow anything.

My little sister, Jan, however, has thumbs of green.

She loves to get down on her hands and knees, burying her fingers in the dirt, planting, pulling, corralling her cone flowers and navigating through her native wild flowers. She delights in the process–the results are enjoyable because she invested in the process.

Don’t get me wrong. I love gardens. The wild, flowers-growing-in-mad-disarray kind, where there’s an abundance of color and movement and depth. A party of posies, a riot of richness–with no supervision.

Some would call that a meadow. No known gardener in sight.

Except God.

So imagine my dismay…

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