A Bruised Reed

Now, this might come as a surprise for some, not so for others, but Adam horrified me the other day. For those who were not taken aback by that, what might surprise you was the topic: plant husbandry.

You see, I had bought a calathea, totally ignorant of how to care for it. I watered, fed and generally showered love and care on this plant which was all the while oblivious to my attentions. Despite my care, it not only failed to acknowledge my efforts but responded decidedly negatively. Within a few months it had wilted, the cat had eaten some of it, and the leaves were slowly but surely dying off. I tried all sorts of things bar singing to it, to no avail and, in the end, resorted to cutting off all but the best three tatty leaves in what I thought would serve to help concentrate its remaining energy.

What I hadn’t realised is that I had cut off its ability to receive from its life-giving source of energy, the sun.

For a year I researched about it, worried over it, spoke over it and just generally loved it. My plant once oblivious to my devotion suddenly started to thrive. Every couple of days a new leaf would appear much to my delight. I would go and count the new shoots coming up and Tobey would delight in confounding the rest of the family with the information that I loved the plant so much I knew daily what the new leaf tally was, until it became the beautiful, healthy, leafy plant it is now.

Cue the horror:

Adam: “you should cut off those three ugly leaves.”

Me: “NO!!!!!!’ Those leaves grew the plant.”

God had been speaking to me while tending for that plant. About His love, care and attention surrounding us and His provision for us, of which we are largely oblivious.

And about the value of bruised reeds and so much more.

To be continued

Colleen