SKILLFULLY WROUGHT

I wish I could grow a garden. Lush landscapes of exotic, flowering plants, pomegranates, and fragrant herbs in terra-cotta pots, discretely lit by torches decorate my daydreams. In real life, I can’t even keep the basil plant from Publix alive beyond its first week’s residual strength – it’s pathetic. The only exception to this are plants given to me by people I love. I don’t know why, but Annisette’s lime and Humberto’s flower trees flourish, while the orange tree we ourselves bought is a sorry sight.

If not for the help of compassionate friends, my house would be a complete disaster. In stead, shall we say, it is very well lived in. It will never grace anyone’s Pinterest board. At times, it has been a real source of embarrassment for me, not because I ever had illusions of being related to Martha Steward, but I thirst for a beauty I am incapable of creating.

My soul was saturated from weeks of sweet togetherness with beloved friends, sentimentally grateful for the passion-fruit vine they added to my collection of love-plants, when it struck me: The people I love comprise my true exotic garden. While I am bewildered and confused by the physical, practical world, I feel at home in and intuitively understand the emotional realm much better. That’s how I am made. That’s where I thrive and bear fruit.

What a freedom to accept and embrace our Creator’s design. I am profoundly grateful to be surrounded by people who cherish each other’s uniqueness…. They are strong where I am weak and vice versa. We complete each other.

“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”
― Albert Einstein

“He fashions their hearts individually;
He considers all their works.”
– Psalms 33:15

“I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Marvelous are Your works,
And that my soul knows very well.
My frame was not hidden from You,
When I was made in secret,
And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.
Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.
And in Your book they all were written,
The days fashioned for me,
When as yet there were none of them.
How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God!
How great is the sum of them!
If I should count them, they would be more in number than the sand;
When I awake, I am still with You.
– Psalms 139:14-18