Have you ever realized that the work of your hands is tangled up with some deeply personal stuff?…despite your organization and compartmentalization? Your productivity depends on the health of your roots.
Underneath it all, we have hidden stories, worries, hopes, fears and even secret pain. And we secure our insecurities the way we wear tight Spanx under cute dresses. But what's underneath won't stay hidden forever. At some point, the truth pops out. Like, if a plant has rotten roots, eventually spring time tells its truth. The blooms and fruits indicate if something is going on underground. And from time to time we all have something going on under there that needs tending to.
Everyone wants the big blooms, the prized crop, but the true gardener knows that it takes time to properly tend beneath the surface in order to produce well. When the garden is well maintained and managed, bountiful blooms and fruits come through with ease; a natural flow that is not forced. (there is productivity without stress and force!?)
In fact, it can't be forced. Growth happens, not because the gardener pulled on the stem, but because he trusts and knows: it needs time for tending. The plant can't force itself into natural productivity either. And it cannot produce fake flowers.
But humans do it differently. We pull and tug on ourselves to get the good stuff out into the open. And we fake it as we make it happen. Even further, we call it hustling, and we honor that. Is it any wonder that work=stress? Maybe you don't work as a CEO. Maybe the work of your hands is raising children. Even more to the point, what happens when we force our kids to bloom?
What do the gardeners and their plants know about the productivity of a well tended, healthy root system?
When a seed goes low into the ground in the right season, what follows is a delicate process: its hard casing breaks open while something new emerges. This small yet dramatic growth comes with ease despite the dark of the dirt. In that season the gardener is near, even if he is out of sight, gently watering and watching.
And then it happens. The plant emerges. And as it is growing up and out towards the light, the roots are growing too, continuing to get deeper and more secure. With a sturdy stance the stems extend and prepare to produce a harvest. The growth was slow and yet right on time.
What if we were to reject the world's urgency to be showy and productive in all seasons? What if we break out of the year round green house—the demand to force ourselves to be constant producers?
Is this metaphor realistic?
Well, in order to stop forcing our own growth, to stop pulling on our stems and producing fake flowers, we're gonna need a gardener.
What if we made friends with The Gardener who knows about timing; who knows us down to the roots; who knows our whole story since we were mere seeds? He knows that our roots get tangles and bitter twists in them, and he knows how to tend, too. This Gardener knows about seasons and resting and light and water. In His Garden, rest is a productive and essential time.
Could we learn to trust even when we feel counterproductive in the ways of the world; when we go low rather than high?
If you think about it, gardens and graves aren't that different— not until the growth happens. When the Light pulls a vibrant color from a place where no one saw it coming; that kinda growth can not be man-made or self manufactured. That plant doesn't look exhausted or dull like an out of season strawberry. It's radiant and vibrant. It is alive on purpose.
It is evident when there has been a season of “tending before sending”; a surrendering to the one who knows his way around a garden. May we embrace the seasons of restoration. What grows in this Garden is right on time, and vibrant with good purpose.
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stay inspired to come back to the Garden for the tending. Purchase prints of this art here.