In the ground, a seed is planted. Rain is prayed for–to water this seed; to encourage it to grow. And when the rain doesn’t come, we water the seed hoping we don’t over water or under water. We watch and wait for the seed to produce a beautiful new plant. Sometimes the plant is damaged by the strong ND winds. Other times, the plant doesn’t grow because it is so arid and dry. As a farmer’s daughter, granddaughter, and niece, I understand the need for just the right amount of sun, rain, and timing for growth. And when everything is just right, a good plant is yielded from that first seed.
This past year, the last 7-8 months especially have changed me in ways I never thought or imagined. I have been shaped and shifted from this unexpected change in my life. It is a time of waiting that has changed me in new and exciting ways. (You can read about this waiting over at the Mudroom this week.)
Yet in early June, in the beginning days of this change, I couldn’t see how I could or even would grow from this experience. All I saw was a girl in need of water, in need of growth, in need of someone who would tend and nourish her heart. I was dry and desperately seeking to be quenched by the life giving water of our God who offers that life giving water to all of us.
But then the unforeseen happened again. In the majestic Colorado Rocky Mountains, I stood 300 feet from the base of Estes Cone where I felt I could practically reach out and touch God. And it was there in that place where I began to see God molding and shaping me into a new woman. On that mountain, holy tears streaming down my face, I began to let go of the past and look towards the future.
The weight of the world; of my life was lifted from my shoulders. I came down from that mountain; lighter than I had been in weeks. And as I stood at the bottom of that mountain, looking up at the top, I stood contemplating where God would lead me next.
The truth is that in the midst of this liminal space, God grew me. I didn’t see the growth in the midst of the pain. But God watered me through friends who sat with me and knew when I needed to grieve, when I needed to cry and when I simply needed to yell at the world. God also watered me through the Word and through holy spaces and places that began to fill my heart up again. In addition, God nourished my heart as God formed me along the way.
Now looking back, I see the ways that God has used my brokenness to make me whole again; to graft me into an elegant new piece of kintsugi. Kintsugi that tells the story of my brokenness but also the beauty of that brokenness in my life. “God makes beautiful things out of dust; out of us (Lyrics from Beautiful Things; Gungor music). I am a beautiful beloved child of God whose cracks shine forth with God’s love knowing only God is the one who can heal, redeem and grow forth new life.
I am a changed woman; changed by the growth that has taken place. The weeds have been removed. New seeds have been planted. And this dry arid heart again has life and breath and peace as a new seed grows forth reminding me and all of us that God indeed is the master gardener knowing what we need at the right time and place.
And now, a new seed is sprouting forth; cracking through the dirt ready to be nourished, watered and tended to in the midst of life’s own brokenness.