The walkway to our house is trimmed in vibrant green on a backdrop of black mulch. Emeralds on velvet. I stroll past the familiar leaves of the plants that return all on their own.
My favorites, two chubby hostas, like to tease us. Every year we wonder if perhaps winter got them and then, at the last moment, they pop out of the ground like smiling children.
Other more sinister green always appears too. Weeds that sneak into corners and burrow into shadows until we find them. They’re like secrets in this garden. When we come across one my husband declares, “Weed!” and yanks it sternly from the roots. A swift and efficient extraction.
For some reason, the weeds always surprise me. Every year I somehow think our yard will miraculously be free of them. They’re not on my mind when we plant, water, and comment on the growth.
But they never surprise my husband. He’s known they’re somewhere beneath, just waiting for their chance at light and air so they can make an appearance.
He would never decide not to plant flowers because of the weeds that would come too. And when he finds the weeds he never says, “I knew I shouldn’t have planted those flowers!” The nature of growth is that it comes with weeds.
Our hearts are much the same. A sin or struggle pops up in our lives and we’re horrified. “Oh no!” we declare, “Now everything God has done in my life is ruined!” But God is only interested in pulling the weed. It’s not a surprise to Him. It doesn’t change the beauty He’s creating in our lives. It doesn’t cancel out the growth that we’ve seen.
God knew all along the weed was there.
And now it’s simply time to deal with it.
He chose you knowing that seed would one day come to the surface. And in His infinite love, He picked the perfect time to bring it to your attention so He can remove it.
My husband tosses the weed over his shoulder. I watch it sink out of sight into the trash can. I turn and look at my man, a smile of pride across his face. The weed has already been forgotten. He says, “Don’t you think the hostas look especially good this year?”
I glance down at the green, a few stray bits of dirt the only trace of where the weed had so recently been.
I nod my head and agree, “Yes, they’re more beautiful than ever.”
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