Vyisna

A few days ago, I asked my friend Rosie, who speaks Russian, if the word for “spring” in Russian is similar to the one in English.  I figured that the season is called Spring because of things “springing” forth from the earth.  She told me the word for the season and that it does not have the double meaning the way the English word does. 

Anyway, Spring (Vyisna in Russian) is upon us!  Trees are flaunting their tiny green leaves, bulbs are pushing to the surface, colorful blossoms are popping out everywhere and the scent of all these lovely new colors is filling the air.  Everything is fresh and new.

Don’t you love flowers?  For many people spring means allergies and they are absolutely miserable due to the evil force of pollen infiltrating every nose in middle Tennessee.  But even if you despise spring for it’s allergens, hopefully, you still appreciate the beauty of a gorgeous new flower.

Over spring break we were in Palm Springs, California.  Now THAT is a place for flowers!  My favorite are the snap dragons in every shade you can imagine.  Roses also bloom beautifully in that climate and my dad and Brad have them growing on their front patio and along the back patio.  It’s pretty amazing to sit on that back patio, gazing out across the golf course through the palm trees at the purple mountains.  Breathing in the fragrance of gorgeous roses and watching humming birds flit around is one of my favorite patio pastimes. 

One morning, we were all out on the patio and Brad was watering the plants and trimming the rose bushes.  My twelve year old was sitting in a chair a good six feet from the particular rose bush that Brad was pruning, but she gasped softly when she saw Brad cut a lovely white rose from it’s long stem and toss it into the trash.  Abbey directed what was more of an accusation than a question to me:

“Brad just cut off a perfectly good rose and threw it out!”

She was quite miffed at his decision to do this and gave the type of scowl only a 12 year-old know-it-all can give. 

My thumb is far from green, but I know that plants have to be pruned and my dad, hearing Abbey’s dismay, said as much to her, adding that the rest of the bush would grow much better if that dying flower was removed. 

Getting up and looking closely at the discarded flower brought enlightenment.  It may have looked perfectly lovely from Abbey’s vantage point in her chair, but Brad had a different perspective—a closeness to that particular rose—which allowed him to have a more intimate knowledge about it.  Upon closer inspection one saw that the petals were shriveling brown at the tips, it was also full of tiny bugs, which had chewed holes and stolen nutrients. 

Instantly I knew that there are countless things I scowl about from my chair on the patio of life.  From my perspective, things that are perfectly fine are getting pruned.  The world is not being run correctly.  But just as Brad had a different perspective, God has a closeness to every issue everywhere which allows Him to have a more intimate knowledge about it.

Things happen in life and I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, dismay, maybe even anger.  But, I must remember my place.  God is God and I am not.  My view and knowledge are limited.  His view and knowledge are infinite.  Rather than insisting I know better, I could focus on knowing the Gardener.  Because as I get to know His character, I will trust His choices and I will find out that He welcomes questions (even if I’ve just been scowling and grumbling to others about Him).  His love is undeterred.  His patience is perfect.  His ways are not our ways.