It was early March. Mike and I spent most of the day in our yard, getting it ready for the coming growing season. Before I could stop him, Mike used the weed-wacker in one of our flower beds where I had left some flowers from the previous year.
“There was nothing living in that flower bed,” was his explanation.
I didn’t say anything because it appeared that he had been right. Even though the plants were supposed to be perennials, here it was the early part of spring and the stems of the flowers were brown and dry.
The other day I was walking to the mailbox when I glanced at the flower beds…and stopped. Green leaves were unfurling in the bed. At the right time, my flowers were coming back.
How did I know they were my flowers and not a weed?
Because they were growing exactly where I had planted them.
Sometimes I look at the circumstances I am facing and see only dryness and death. I don’t see anything that represents life. I need to remind myself that God planted me where I am and, in His time, life will return.
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