On my back porch hangs a planter that just a year ago held a big, beautiful green fern. Today it is just a bunch of brown spikes sticking out of the container. It is dead. Like what I call dead, dead. But my daughter sees one green frond coming from the side of it and vows it is still alive.
And so, it hangs there, and each time guests arrive, I face an internal battle of whether to open my mouth and explain the situation or keep it shut and hope my friends pass by without noticing it.
You see, last spring a little bird came and made her nest there, carefully hiding it among the plentiful green fronds. Several weeks passed as I watched her raise her family. And unbeknownst to us, thus began the dying process of my beautiful green fern.
Some internal voice has urged me repeatedly over the winter to just take the thing down and pitch it. Carinda would eventually get over her sorrow at not being able to salvage one tiny green stem.
But I didn’t listen to the voice in my head and now I can’t take it down.
The little mother is back. She has a new family she is raising now among the brown remnants of my fern. And because of a deep compassion for living creatures, I allow the unsightly planter to hang so she can successfully raise her family there.
Life is like that. Sometimes we sacrifice one thing to make a safe place for something else to grow and develop.
Mothers are well-acquainted with this sacrifice.
I think of the friend who just this week gave up a long-anticipated anniversary trip to Europe at the last minute, racing instead to the side of a nephew she loves like a son. His need for her support during his health crisis took priority over her romantic getaway.
Another friend is preparing for two weeks in the hospital with a child whose long-term illness causes her to often give up her well-ordered plans and projects. The health and safety of her daughter outweigh the call of the slowly wilting writing project.
God, being the good Father He is, also demonstrates this kind of sacrifice and love in our lives.
He has perfect plans that He is so excited about, and we, being shortsighted and immature, often botch those plans. He then patiently deals with the outcome, reconstructing something worthwhile even amid the ferns that we have caused to become ugly and brown.
He sticks with us because He is committed to doing whatever is necessary to help us grow and develop.
Instinct-driven birds. Sacrificial mothers. Ailing family members.
Imperfect humans and botched-up situations.
He uses it all to shift our focus from earth to heaven and to soften our hearts.
Every sacrifice made for the benefit of another person, every compassion bestowed on an unsuspecting recipient, and every botched situation that has been redeemed will one day show to the watching world just how kind and gracious our God is.
I feel honored to be loved by One who takes the time to teach and inspire me, using my friends, some dead ferns, and innocent little birds.
“Live a life filled with love, following the example of Christ. He loved us and offered Himself as a sacrifice for us, a pleasing aroma to God.” Ephesians 5:2 NLT