Sunday, May 01, 2016

Passion Vine: Trust Your Roots

We planted a few things last weekend, or rather, my aunt planted things while I watched and did something else that seemed important at the time, though I can't remember now what it was! One thing she planted was this Passion Vine. I've been trying wanting something to vine on the old gate and haven't had much luck. We will see how this effort goes.

I was sitting on the porch, drinking coffee and thinking. The vine looks rather pitiful here, almost like it's ready to give up and quit. I watered it real good but it still looks wilted. I couldn't help but compare it my own self, after this news about the breast cancer. I have had bouts of feeling pitiful, not quite ready to give up and quit, but feeling like maybe I'm not up to the struggle.

What I thought about the Passion Vine was that it just needed to get firmly rooted in the soil and accustomed to the new spot it's now in. That was Saturday.

It wasn't until Sunday, when I was sitting in the swing with my prayer flags behind me that I remembered a sermon I'd heard preached by a tiny little Texas preacher woman that resonated with me when I first heard it and now surfaced again to reassure me. She was talking about things to do when we're faced with problems. I can't remember all the details of the sermon but I distilled it down in my head to the two things she said that day that spoke the loudest to me. She was talking about the strength of trees. She said, when times of trouble come (and they always do), "trust your roots," and then, "feel the weight of your trunk."

The Passion Vine will never be a huge oak, but once those roots settle in and the vines grab hold and start shooting their tendrils out to grasp the wire of the gate, it should be all right. I've had my moments of being a bit shaken by this new spot I find myself in, but I've got some deep roots I know I can trust. And I've got a strong trunk that will help carry me through. I'm grateful for these two things, and for friends who encourage me in this spot.

(And I remembered I have two blank prayer flags that I wanted to use for the reminder to trust my roots, and feel the weight of my trunk. Maybe I'll write these words on them the next time I am up there.)

It was a beautiful day. I picked these flowers (they may actually be considered weeds) and got out in the sun to take their picture. It felt good. I felt very much alive. Life goes on. One of the harder parts of dealing with stuff like this is the waiting to find more information after being first informed of the problem. The temptation, for me, is to shut everything down, until I can hear "the rest of the story." But, yes, life goes on. And I really can't be wasting time shutting down every time something like this happens. So I'm trying to do better with the whole breathe while waiting thing!

10 comments:

  1. "I felt very much alive."

    I am so glad.

    -beth

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    1. I hope to continue to feel that way! There are some things that tend to make you feel cracked wide open (in a good way, mostly). This whole health/cancer saga has been doing that to me.

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  2. One of my favorite of your recent pieces. I love to listen to you think. And I'm very glad you got good roots and a strong trunk.

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    1. Thanks, Rach! I've very glad too, about the good roots and strong trunk!

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  3. The prayer flag you gave us still hangs there from that day.

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    1. That's cool! I need to make mine. I filled up the end of my porch so I don't know where I will hang them when I make them. They will be the breast cancer prayer flags!

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  4. The thing about passionflowers is that, once settled, they will twine and grasp and climb and then, overnight, their leaves and tendrils will appear in the middle of the yard, far away from the main plant, reaching straight up, as if for the sun. And the flowers are shockingly beautiful.
    I miss mine from my house in Loozianna, and I miss you, my dear friend.
    Be tenacious. Keep reaching.
    You can do this.
    <3

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    1. I miss you too! My vine seems to be taking root in its new spot. I'll be happy to see more vines in the yard. And I will keep reaching. Thank you, my friend.

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  5. What a wonderful allegory that plant became for you. I had a friend who died of cancer, not breast cancer. She didn't go to the doctor, and it was too late when she finally did. One thing her doctor said that stuck in my head was that she had gone on every day living her life without the threat of cancer hanging over her head. I determined that no matter what, I would go along every day, whatever bumps came, living my life without letting threats of anything hang over my head. It sounds like you are coming to that point, too, by a different route. Good for you!

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    1. It's sometimes a struggle to go on living with all the stuff hanging over my head, but I do believe it's a very important thing to do, Susan.

      The passion vine looks like it's taking hold. I'm going to hang in there too!

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