“For they are transplanted to the Lord’s own house. They flourish in the courts of our God.”
Grab a spade.
It’s transplanting season!
While spring is the best time to do a lot of the planting phase in these parts, fall is a great time to transplant.
That’s when you move one plant to a new spot – whether because it has outgrown its space, or it hasn’t performed up to par due to light or drainage issues, or the height or shape is wrong for its current home, there are many reasons to transplant.
I had a daylily in a corner by the house which didn’t bloom once this summer. I concluded that it didn’t get enough sunlight where it was, and set to work to find a new area which would provide it with better conditions in which to thrive. Likewise, two rudbeckias were being choked out by a larger perennial which was blocking too much light and slurping up too much moisture.
Out came the spade.
I start by digging in a circle around the base of the plant, where I think the roots are. I slip it gradually deeper and deeper, and gently loosen the root ball until I can feel it give. Then I carefully carry it to a new spot, one where I’ve already dug a hole large enough for it to fit comfortably into. I add a handful of bone meal to help stimulate new root development. And I water it deeply to give it available moisture while the root system repairs any damage done to root hairs and fibres during the transition.
A new transplant often sulks. Droops. Looks a little ‘off’ for a week or two, until it settles in. But if I’ve planned well and the new location suits it, soon I see evidence of a happy plant.
Greener leaves. Stronger stems. Fresh growth.
And in future, many blooms where there were none.
Now to this verse in Psalm 92.
Imagine you are noticed by your Head Gardener. He sees that you can’t live up to your potential, squished into the circumstances you currently live in. Your light is blocked by others. Choices – whether yours or those around you – have hemmed you in.
Out comes the spade.
It pinches, this digging phase. It hurts to be so completely cut off from what is familiar. It is uncomfortable, as you are pulled out by the roots.
But perhaps – perhaps you didn’t realize you were being transplanted, relocated to a spot where you can sink in new roots. Develop a deeper faith.
And soak up the light of God’s presence enough to bloom!
You may sulk a bit as you get used to your new growing conditions. That’s to be expected. But do let go of your expectations and the nostalgia for what is familiar for long enough to take a good look around you.
Change is hard. Don’t I know it.
But perhaps this change is just what you need to develop a stronger support system. Learn how to bulk up your character. Send out vibrant faith.
And become simply beautiful, the more time you spend in the Light.
I don’t know about you, but I want to flourish. I want to be where God wants me to be. I want to participate in His vision for how I can build His kingdom using my talents and personality in the unique ways I am gifted. If it means change, I want to allow the change to create new beauty in me.
Easier said than done. I still don’t like change. Change is – well, hard.
But I’m learning it is often drawing out beautiful things in my life – when I let go of my own expectations of how I think life should go.
Submit to God’s transplanting with me?
Father, change is hard. I fight it so often, when what You want is for me to find deeper faith roots and grow better quality fruit. Help me to grow in faith as I trust You to move me to places that will grow my impact on the world around me. Amen.