I’m not a master gardener by any stretch of the imagination, but a kind friend has generously taken me under her house-plant-loving wing, and a few weeks ago she convinced me to care for a distressed little dragon tree and see if he’d come back to life.

So, I brought him home and set to work.

He was outgrowing the pot he had been housed in, so I filled a bigger pot with soil and left space for him in the middle. Next, I gently loosened and pulled him out, roots and all, and transplanted him into the new pot while carefully covering his roots and patting the soil down.

There were many leaves that were entirely brown, so they had to be removed. There were even more that looked completely fine, save a small brown tip or spot. Most people probably wouldn’t even notice anything wrong with them, but because they were pulling nutrients away from the rest of the tree, they had to go, too.

I didn’t think he would last very long after that. He had only a fraction of the leaves he came home with left, and he looked awfully bare.

But we found a good afternoon spot with just the right kind of light, and after a few days we started moving him to morning light for a while every day, too. Most mornings, he perches right on the table while we homeschool, so he absorbs lots of music and interaction every day.

This afternoon, Ez was chattering away about something when he suddenly stopped, plopped down next to this little guy and crowed with glee, “Hey MAma! There’s a bunch of new li’l leafs growing on yer DRAgon trees! Huh!”

And he was right.

There, plainly visible, were several new growths on each little tree. Bright green symbols of fresh, thriving life.

And I thought about how much we are like these little dragon trees.

Sometimes, because we need different things, or because we’re needed in different things, or because God has a different plan for us, or because we can’t grow in that same spot anymore, He removes us from the place where we were and puts us somewhere different and new. It’s uncomfortable, but He puts us in just the right place with painstaking care. It doesn’t always feel gentle or good, but the fruit of what He is doing is good, because He is good.

Sometimes, because of circumstances, or wounds, or sin, or all three, the parts of us that are meant to grow become stunted, tainted, and incapable of producing growth. But when we surrender to Him, He begins the work of gently removing all those dead spots, one by one. It isn’t something we can do for ourselves, but He can. And He does it because He loves us. It hurts sometimes, but as we’re released from each dead thing, we’re free to produce whatever new thing He wants to grow in and through us.

As He gives us what we need, we begin to thrive as He desired all along. We can take no credit, beyond simply surrendering and letting Him do His work.

And it is all completely, totally His work. Our part is simply to put our faith in Jesus. To say yes when He asks if we’ll surrender each old thing that doesn’t belong to us anymore, and to let Him do the work only He can do.

If you’re feeling awfully bare today? He isn’t finished yet. Not with me, not with you. Not with any of us. Be encouraged. He only removes the lifeless and damaged bits so there’s room for the new life He wants to grow there instead.

Joy,

Merry