“Mama, I really don’t think it’s all the way dead yet.”
That’s what my oldest proclaimed when I told him to take the dried up plants from the back porch and put them in the trashcan. He said it like a modern day Caleb, filled with promise and hope and victory.
I looked at him there, holding a hanging basket in each hand, and all I could see was a naively optimistic boy handling dried, sun-crisped former blooms.
He saw the potentials of life.
“Please Mama. Let me water them to see if I can bring them back again. Please.”
He watched my face for signs of agreement.
I dropped my shoulders a little and sighed right into a yes.
He hung them on the edge of the canopy that sits in the corner of our high back deck. He placed them right where they needed to be to receive just the right amount of sunshine and breezeway. He watered them diligently. And then watched and waited, with hope waning and rising.
And then one day, I walked out back to find this exquisite pink blossom. Two of them, actually. One on each hanging plant. There, shooting straight out from a bed of tangled, decomposing old flowers, were these delightful clusters of fuchsia. Their stems were the liveliest of green, and they shot out long and high heralding to the world that they had not been finished yet.
I was overcome with the encouragement of it all.
We decided to let it be a life lesson over roast with gravy and baby potatoes that night at the dinner table. I took pictures of the new life and we all looked at it as we ate. We talked about not ever giving up on people or projects who show some deep seeded kind of promise somewhere. Even if you are the only one who sees it.
It’s a story about single stemmed blossoms that busted death and decided to grow again, with the help of a boy who believed they could. And it’s a story about a doubtful, earth-centered Mama who was inspired to hold onto hope, and give grace, and think with a faith-filled heavenly head a little more often.
Friends, what seems dead may end up just being a little bit dormant.
Don’t throw away what may thrive.
Marriages, prodigals, careers, health, dreams, goals, relationships, countries, ideologies, desires.
I’m saying a prayer of hope, promise, and restoration for all the eyes scanning these sentences today.
Lord, let us look for life.