If you’re old enough, you might remember a TV program called “Fantasy Island”; an hour-long show that usually unfolded three different story lines per episode. At the beginning of each, the Overseer’s assistant would announce the new guest’s arrival by ringing the tower bell and shouting, “Ze Plane! Ze Plane! Boss! Ze Plane!”

 

That’s exactly how I felt New Year’s Day when I realized my new bulbs had broken ground. The bulbs! The bulbs! The bulbs are coming up!

 

Once Christmas is over and New Year’s has passed, I’m always ready for spring; and it was my good fortune to be in Lowe’s in early December when they discounted the bulbs 75%, so I cleaned them out. I can hardly wait to see the cheerful explosions of yellow and white daffodils, narcissus, and tiny little vivid irises.

 

They’re exactly the right kind of flowers for me because once planted, they bloom; and then they stay in the ground and mind their own business till next year. My grandmother was a very talented gardener, but I didn’t come anywhere near inheriting her green genes. When our church youth group would distribute beautiful hanging baskets of color every Mother’s Day, I always figured my basket was thinking, “Please don’t give me to her; she’s going to kill me!” and sure enough, I eventually would.

 

I’d probably benefit from some gardening tutorials, but I’d honestly rather plant with words, thoughts and deeds anyway; and I do regularly discuss my planting projects with the Master Gardener…

 

 

Then the Lord God planted a garden in Eden

 

in the east

 

and there he placed the man he had made.

 

Genesis 2:8

 

 

…and I love love love to watch his work…

 

 

…Each of us did the work the Lord gave us.

 

I planted the seed in your hearts,

 

and Apollos watered it,

 

but it was God who made it grow.

 

It’s not important who does the planting,

 

or who does the watering.

 

What’s important is that God makes the seed grow.

1 Corinthians 3: 5-7

 

 

There’s an old abandoned homestead piece of land that I love driving past in the spring. It has thick bushy rows of blooming yellow daffodils and white narcissus; clearly proclaiming that this once was a loved property where things were planted and, even though the house is long gone, continues to produce a harvest of beauty. I hope that someday the same can be said about my life.