Transplanting flowers can result in beautiful combinations such as the three-mum combination at my friend’s home. But sometimes, and for a variety of reasons, floral transplants don’t thrive. We usually give up on the dying effort and start again. But people, of far greater importance than plants, also experience moves, uprootings, transplantings. Some repotting brings beautiful new situations while others leave roots exposed, drying out and threatening death. Consider the Middle Eastern refugees fleeing war-torn homelands; a job promotion that necessitates a move; a young Olympic hopeful who relocates to train with a renowned coach; the children pulled into custody battles, or worse yet, sex trafficking.
Yet, a year after my third major back surgery, we chose to move three hours from our suburban home — and 30+ years’ worth of friends and family — to a quiet 4 acres on a dirt road.
Initially, the peacefulness fed my soul, especially after the hectic pace we had lived. But I missed people. This plant had some times of slumping over, then perking up, only to look bedraggled again. Being transplanted, even when planned and prayed about, is not a greenhouse-perfect transfer. People, as I mentioned before, are far more complex than plants.
For almost eight years now, my husband and I have made personal and financial adjustments to our early retirement, worshipped at a church 40 minutes away, and found new doctors and dentists. We even left Winding Ridge for a school year and lived in North Carolina where I taught high school English for a year. But that transplant is its own story!
Proverbs 16:9 often re-anchors my ailing roots: “In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps.”
I have a responsibility to research, plan, prepare. Yet, the sovereign Lord is the Divine Gardener. His landscape architecture lies far, far beyond my scope. But I can trust Him.