On Friday, Robby and I received the disappointing news that we would have to cancel this month's IVF. It was a hard day: we have been preparing for this since November with labs and bloodwork and medications. Our Friday appointment was supposed to be full of excitement and joy; instead, it was full of sadness.
For Robby and me, gardening has been a source of healing and encouragement. We find great joy in seeing shoots poking through the dirt and buds ready to burst. We love our outings to the local nurseries where we get to discover new plants and find out what's thriving in our area. I often complain about our Central Valley heat, but I know it's our spectacular sunny weather that allows us to have flowers blooming year-round.
In March, the garden is brimming with beauty and potential. The Redbud trees are covered in deep purple buds ready to explode into bloom. The camellias have finally revealed the first glimpse of pink petals. Tulips and daffodils are rising up from the dirt, reminding us that even more glory is to come. All around us buds are forming and plants are taking shape. It's been a hard winter, they remind us, but we're still here, and a new season is on its way.
We even have certain plants that are intimately tied to our struggle with fertility. Our corner elm was once seemingly dead, but God healed it at a time when I needed to know miraculous healing could happen. Two hydrangeas were purchased on a day when we received yet another negative result, and their promise of large mopheads excite me each season. And now, thanks to a plethora of bare root plants on clearance this weekend, we have a weeping cherry tree, more lovely lilacs, and a red twig dogwood all waiting for the proper time to display their gracious blooms. Planting those on Saturday was therapeutic as we worked in the dirt, visualizing how they would grow and blossom and become part of our home, releasing some of the disappointment from the previous day.
Our garden reminds us that there is always the hope of life, and even when all seems dead and barren, flowers will bloom. What a striking reminder of God's presence and grace in our lives.
To learn more about our journey through infertility, visit my other blog,
The Loveliest Way.
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| Redbuds |
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| Weeping Cherry |
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| Hellebore (Lenten Rose) |
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| Oakleaf Hydrangea |
Spoken like a true monk. Maybe we should do a weekend at a monastery Can? ;-) The weeping cherry sounds to die for. Not sure if we can do hellebore, but it sounds intriguing...
ReplyDeleteI thought it a rather fun coincidence that an Orthodox saint who is commemorated today, on March 5th, is named St. Konon the Gardener. Read his story here (scroll down)
ReplyDeleteKelly, I could totally be a monk. Except for the whole "deny yourself" everything thing. That I couldn't do :) Thanks for the link, John. I checked it out. Quite a life (or more significantly, death) that he had!
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