Room to Grow

Room to Grow

Yesterday I knelt on the stamped concrete porch and yanked a ponytail tree out of a red ceramic pot, and as clods of dirt fell from the tangled roots onto my pants, I was hit with a revelation that was so simple and yet so profound:

In order to grow, we sometimes must be replanted.

That ponytail tree was stifled by its tight confines, yet I am certain that the roots took a battering as I pulled and yanked it free of the pot.

But then I nestled it into a larger pot. A pot so large that it can stretch its roots down into the rich cake batter soil and thrive.

So this week if you feel your roots shifting as the ground beneath your feet gives way, just know that in the interval between being replanted, your horizons will expand along with your potential to grow.

Here is a post to nourish your roots during the transporting process by my dear friend and fellow book lover, Candace Smith: The Greener Grass of Sunshine and Rain:

“Tonight as I was driving I wept and I worshipped. I wept because yet another person close to me is exiting singleness and entering marriage and I am left behind. I wept because friends continue to be sent out to do work I ache to do but I am left here in the wake of their departure. I am left to the tasks that feel at times mundane, the tasks that take second place to the ‘real deal’. I am left here to rain and nourish not only their new work but works here, families here. I flung my arms open and worshipped, worshipped because He is worthy of my offering. Worshipped in quiet surrender declaring that if I’m to be the rain, that He would help me be poured out, that He would use me to nourish, to build up the body both here and abroad.”

Read more here . . .