Many summers ago, at a small little house on King Street in Danville Illinois, I sat out on the sidewalk and “helped” my mom plant lots of tiny flowers. Red and white ones. I believe they were geraniums and petunias. If I close my eyes I can still smell the soil, and feel the mist from the hose. It felt good to get dirty and dig down deep for the sake of all that beauty.
This summer, I am not too far off from doing the same thing, here at my house. The EXACT same thing. I have my dahlias and my rose bushes in the front beds and my begonias and double impatiens on the back deck, some in a planter, some in a hanging basket. But a few weekends ago, I went back to the nursery to find something special for the front porch, to decorate the entry way to our home. I had my basket loaded up, when I found what I really wanted and put it all back. I brought home the red and white “candy striped” petunias – just like the ones Mom planted so long ago. They are perfect, just what I wanted, and so much of what I remembered from childhood. Recently I posted photos of them on Facebook; I couldn’t be happier with them.
Now, my dahlias, which are my beloved flowers from the beginning, have been doing strange things this summer, and I haven’t photographed them as much as years passed. I’m almost embarrassed of them. Why? Well, they are growing up in a winding, vine-like state, rather than up steadfast and tall, like usual. And I’m frustrated. I’ve tried to tie them up, so they’ll grow straight – but they have a mind of their own.
I’m a touch heartbroken because they aren’t what I’d hoped…
My gardening, is only a picture of my own life, to be sure. Fruit that I’d hoped would grow is slow to bloom. Seeds that were planted long, long ago, haven’t produced anything yet. nothing real or significant anyway. Weeds of sin keep popping up that I can’t seem to keep at bay. I feel like my dahlias : unruly and rowdy, sometimes fighting the very stakes of truth my heart has been tied to. Its work; all of this growing and digging down deep in the soil of my heart is pain-staking, back breaking labor.
I can’t help but wonder… Is He heartbroken over my growth? Is He frustrated over my bull headed and stubborn behavior, when I should be obedient and compliant to His will? This week I have had to stop and examine it all; its been challenging to take a fresh account of my heart’s garden. But, do you know what I’ve found in the middle of it all? I have found a glorious place of refreshment- its a promise of beauty in the middle of all this digging around in the dirt, pulling out weeds, and watering…
The beauty is here at the center of this knowledge : God, in His mercy, loves me. And as He gardens my heart, He promises to not give up until the work is done, until my heart is renewed. No matter what, the promise of complete restoration is worth these brief, earthly moments of agony.
4 But God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, 5 even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved) ephesians 2:4&5
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6 being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ; philippians 1:6.
Do I already know these words? In my head, yes. But sometimes, no, a lot of times, my heart forgets. I feel so alive knowing, that even when I’m not what I would like to be, He comes to my heart’s garden bringing promises of love and affection, mercy and forgiveness. And His love will continue until the end of time. Someday my heart will be perfection. Until then, we’ll keep gardening…
daily portion 
Thanks for this, Melody.