One reason that every garden is different is that there are so many decisions to be made, from the choice of plants to layout and design of the garden. In between is the ever-changing waning or waxing of individual plants and their bloom cycles. Plants that don’t do well might need to be moved, while others need to be thinned after their exponential growth encroaches on other vegetation.
This summer’s drought has reminded us exactly where the septic lines are, and not in a good way. The grass over the stripes has become brown and crunchy, and one of them looks as if it goes under the rock border and right through the spot we had so carefully chosen for the memorial tree commemorating the life of Gary’s mother.
Sure, that bed had grown little by little as I moved the rocks outward and planted more inside, and we never noticed the Kwanso daylilies or the yellow coreopsis having any trouble. So the tree was inadvertently planted in a spot where it won’t get much water in a dry spell.
Only a year ago I found the “Hearts of Gold Redbud” on sale at a local seller, and jumped at the opportunity to replace the one that didn’t make it three years ago. This spring, we kept marveling at the wonderful placement of this magnificent tree, as the morning sun shone through the golden leaves.
Now the questions are, “Do we move this tree?” “Should we be root pruning now to prevent transplant shock later?” “Do we just enjoy the tree while it survives, and look for a good bargain on a new one?” “What possessed us to plant so close to the lines in the first place?”
Okay, that last question is just rhetorically beating ourselves up for an honest mistake. But it is clear that this decision that we congratulated ourselves over is not going to end well. Horticultural heartbreak will inevitably be involved.
Questions. Decisions. Good ones. Bad ones. There is no one answer that will be guaranteed to work. We have no idea if the weather this fall will be conducive to new plantings, and if root pruning now will weaken the tree so badly it will die as we wait for cooler weather to move it.
We will just have to settle on a course of action, and go from there. Life is like that, for sure.
“The mind of man plans his way,
But the Lord directs his steps”
(Proverbs 16:9, NASB).
Looking back on raising our children and working in various ministries, there are things we would have done differently, and life questions that we would have answered better. Like this beautiful but doomed tree, we cannot now change them. We can only proceed forward the best we can.
This is an even worse scenario when we attempt to answer questions of fellow Christians, questions that they might not have even asked of us. Those who point fingers with “shoulda, coulda, woulda” are not helpful.
Our $32 redbud tree cannot be sufficiently watered with our tears of regret. But fingers pointed at our foolishness would not suffice in moving the tree to a better place, nor digging out its sorry remains when it dies.
Yes, there often is a “right” and a “wrong” way to do things. That is the whole concept of sin, and why we needed a Redeemer. Once we are in a bad place as a result of that sin, we need support and wisdom to proceed forward and get out of it.
Let’s all un-point our fingers to get those work gloves on. There is digging in to be done!