6-25-98
Vines, Weeds, and Yellow Flowers

Today I'm writing down some things that happened over the years that have affected the way I live today.

It has been about four years since I dug up a wild trumpet vine from the edge of the field at our house. Summer was moving on. The heat felt like the "Dog Days" had arrived. I am not sure if they really had.

I was mowing again. There was a vine I had to deliberately mow around. I kept meaning to try and transplant it. I love hummingbirds and hummingbirds love reddish-orange trumpet-shaped flowers. I stopped the mower. I decided that today was the day! I headed to the shed for the shovel.

After a few attempts to penetrate the North Carolina red clay, I realized this was going to be a battle. The weather had been so hot and dry that the clay had baked into a huge earthen plate. Perhaps a small shovel would work more effectively. I got the trowel, which still struggled against my hand. I could not control it. If I continued, I knew I would destroy the vine. A table spoon would probably be the only thing small enough to chip away the clay and not damage the root.

The root! Boy, did that plant have a root. Inch by inch, spoonful by spoonful, I removed the earth. I had a hole about six inches wide and almost a foot deep, yet the root went on. I laid on the ground in order to continue to dig. This root seemed to go on forever!

I understood how roots worked. I also understood why that this plant had returned so heartily, when I had "accidentally forgotten to miss it" while mowing! I had come this far and I was not going to abandon the project.

As I lay there, thinking about how lovely this plant would be trained to a post with little birds fluttering by its blooms, I pressed on. If my telling seems to be stuck on the struggle, you must realize that I was! I have nearly quite several times. And then I heard Him and fell on my face. "I AM the vine…" was all He said. I did not know what kind of vine the Lord was, but I knew why He was The True Vine!

At last the vine released its firm hold on the earth. I transplanted it to the spot I had prepared. I was afraid it had died until the following spring, when the scraggly stick began to produce leaves. Again I heard His voice say, "I AM the vine." And again, I wholeheartedly agreed!

"I AM the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. I AM the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in Me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from Me you can do nothing.

I had dug yet another flowerbed. The neighbor kept bringing various cuttings and bulbs. I was very grateful, but I realized they would have me in the yard as often as I saw her there!

Yellow flowers. Most of them seemed to be yellow. When I was at the garden shop I never found myself agonizing over which yellows flowers to purchase and set out. I did not really like yellow flowers. I hoped for a pretty "blue or pink something" -- nor orange or yellow.

But the Lord was providing free flowers. I do love flowers and these "contributions to my cause" would spare my husband's paycheck. So, I guess I was going to have to learn to like yellow flowers.

I worked the ground and began to have that casual prayer that one sometimes has -- the voice in your head converses with the Voice of the Spirit of the Lord in your heart. As we talked He opened my eyes to the lesson I could learn from these less-favored yellow flowers.

I grew up in a wonderful family. Due to their own upbringing, my parents placed a lot of emphasis on the physical appearance of people. Those who did not look or act the same we did were refered to as "odd." Unfortunately, in our culture, residual stigma of the days of slavery still makes itself known, as well. (If this were not the case, another of our own fleshly preferences would separate us from those we deem "too different" from ourselves.) In a nutshell, I write all of this to say that I did not love all peoples equally.

In school, I always found myself championing the underdog, or trying to make the new person at school fit in. I really sought not to be prejudice towards those who were different, but I was still operating on my own -- without God's help.

Here I was in the yellow flower garden tending flowers I did not really like. The Lord told me He had made all of the flowers -- even the yellow ones. He told me that the differences rounded out the spectrum of His beauty. He reminded me how all of creation was made good and how it was man's sin that had corrupted it. And now He was showing me my sin and helping me to learn His way.

He had called me to a ministry where I would be dealing with all people from all walks of life. I gratefully and humbly listened with my heart as He was teaching me how to minister. He showed me to plant or sew with care so they would thrive. He reminded me that they needed to be cared for regularly. He reminded me not to let the "weeds" creep in and choke out these "yellow flower people." He showed me that I must learn to regard all flowers as important in His creation.

My gardening still leaves much to be desired. Sometimes, I have time to spend working in the beds and they look better some years than they do others. But when I see the weeds, I do inventory in my life, to see if I am trying to love all God's children as He does.

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