Our dead roses
When we moved into our house, almost 4 years ago, we "inherited" an immense amount of immaculate landscaping. Apparently, according to the neighbors, the family who lived here had one adult child and the mom used to spend 2-3 hours a day in the yard, planting, tending and maintaining all the amazing-ness that was her garden. We have 3 young children, lots of neighbors who come to play, and a mom who does not have 2-3 hours a day to spend planting, tending and maintaining the garden. Maintaining the laundry, perhaps, but not the garden. So our grass has worn thin in a few spots, particularly where the trampoline used to sit. The yard has randomly dug holes that fill when it rains and become much loved mud puddles. The "orchard" in the back has lost apple trees due to wind storms, lack of pruning and general enthusiasm for tree climbing, even when you've been told a hundredy-million times that those trees are too young to climb. (But mom! The old trees are too tall!!!) So the garden that we inherited when we moved in that was full of apple trees, apricots, roses, blackberries, blueberries, peonies, kale, tomatoes, dahlias and other flowers of all colors has become a haven for numerous young children, full of sidewalk chalk, water shooters, mud puddles, randomly pulled "ingredients" for "soups and cakes," and various "inside toys" that have become "outside toys" after being left in the rain. (We did manage to pull the weeds this year, and thin/yank-out most of the irises that were crowding the peonies.)
In the back yard, past the old, paved over gravel driveway that is now visible again because the grass has thinned in those spots, and past the empty spaces where the apple trees used to be, next to the apricot trees that usually produce giant apricots (which may or may not be delicious, since we've never actually tasted one due to the squirrels enthusiasm for harvesting them before we can), there is planted a second garden with two rose bushes on either end. There are also some peony bushes and a few/millions-of iris bulbs. We never, ever have time to care about this back garden. Last year, as we started the slow count-down to moving, I figured I should do something about this spot since someone else will be living here in the not-too-distant future and my girl scout training of "leave it nicer than you found it" kicked in. So last spring, I tried to thin out the iris bulbs, pull the weeds and prune the roses.
The rose bushes hadn't bloomed for years by this point. Maybe one or two branches. As I worked pulling the weeds around these dried up, brown thorn bushes that were supposed to be full of gorgeous roses, I decided that these were probably dead. In fact, this whole back "garden" was just dead and full of weeds and should probably just be mowed over. So Hubby started mowing it. Mowing down the irises, the grass, the weeds... whatever he could get his mower over. And the dead rose bushes just sat there. We figured by this spring, the bushes would be dried over enough that we could just push them over and pull them out... like we've done with the two gooseberry bushes that didn't survive our kids hide-and-seek games or having their branches broken off for swords and light sabers fights.
A few weeks ago, when we finally had a weekend where we were all home, Hubby and I decided to work in the yard, him pushing the mower, me pulling the weeds. The irises were crowding all the things, again, and "weed trees" had started blocking the sun from the peonies. After we finished in the front yard, we moved to the back garden space. As we took a hack saw to the honey-suckle "bush" that had become a whole "tree," and dug up the iris bulbs to 1) hand out to neighbors to pretend that I know what I'm doing in the garden, "Would you like some irises? We have so many. Haha, now let's go drink tea." and 2) so it's easier for Hubby to mow over those spots in the dead, back garden, I noticed something... the dead rose bushes were covered in roses! Like a lot of roses! Like these DEAD rose bushes were blooming!!
Like really, really blooming.
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| Taller than A... almost taller than me! |
In fact, while we were working in the yard, the neighbor came over and apologized for cutting off some of the rose bush branches because they had gotten so long that they were hanging over the street where he parks his car.
So I learned two things in that moment:
1. Apparently, I have no idea what is actually supposed to happen with roses.
2. Apparently, the roses weren't the problem. The roses were fine! The roses, in fact, were great!! I didn't need to mess with the roses. But the grass was too tall, the weeds had grown into trees, the irises, while beautiful, were crowding the roots of the rose bushes and keeping them from planting new canes.
And like I do with most things in my garden, I looked for a spiritual metaphor. And this one didn't come quite so easily... you see, God and I aren't super good friends right now. I think... no, I know that I'm still mad at Him about a lot of things. So while Hubby is sitting in the living room, in His favorite praying chair, having a long conversation with God, after which he will grab his Bible, come into the kitchen and sit at the bar to read it; I'm writing a blog post about a rose bush. So we'll see where this lands...
Yeah, so God and I aren't so good right now. It's this weird place where I still love going to church with my family, seeing all of our friends. We still pray with our kids every night before bed. We start our home school days with "soul feeding" where each of us gets to pick what we do for those 15 minutes... coloring a scripture page, reading a Bible passage, praying and listening, responding to a devotion, family worship... it's a pretty big list of options. I'm still praying for friends and family. Still praying with Hubby before bed. Still praying before meals. But when it comes to those sit down and have a long, intimate conversation with God, I just don't want to... because I'm mad at Him.
Our kids learned in TCK training that "Mad" always has a cousin... if you're feeling mad, then you're also feeling something else: sad, frustrated, embarrassed, lonely, etc. So I know that I'm sad about all the people we have lost over the past few years; and I'm frustrated that fundraising is taking so long; and I'm overwhelmed by having the kids home all day for home-schooling and Hubby traveling so much that I don't really get a break from "Mommy-ing"; and I'm confused about why this whole "moving overseas transition" is taking so long and I'm tired of waiting for it. So I'm sad and frustrated and overwhelmed and confused and tired. And it feels like God has a part in all those things. So I'm mad at Him.
And He doesn't seem to mind.
(Which is very confusing for my 90's-youth-group-kid brain.)
As I asked God what to write in this blog post, He flashed the rose bushes through my mind. To which I immediately responded, "No, I haven't found the spiritual metaphor, yet."
To which He responded, "The roses are you."
To which I responded," No, they can't be, I'm mad at you, remember? I'm not producing anything beautiful or amazing. I'm dry, brown and thorny not beautiful and blooming. I have to be having awesome quiet times and deep, intimate personal worship in order to be beautiful and blooming, remember God? I'm pretty sure that you were also there for all those Spiritual Discipline sermons." (Sometimes my conversations with God are me telling Him all the ways our relationship is supposed to work... and Him telling me how things actually go.)
At which point, He reminded me that it isn't about the roses. The roses are fine. They were dry, brown and thorny but they weren't dead. They were just going through a hard season. We kept the ground around them tended and tilled, but the roses needed time. My family and my church community are keeping the ground around my soul tended and tilled right now. Praying with Hubby, soul-feeding with the Kids, being at church with other people who worship and pray... all of that is keeping the "weed trees" cut down and the iris bulbs from crowding the roots. And in time, I'm sure the roses will bloom again in a good season.
But right now, God and I are more like acquaintances at the office who can have a conversation in the elevator instead of good, good friends.
And He seems to be holding space for that.
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