This is a picture of my African Violet that was the first plant I grew successfully indoors and for an extended period of time.  It was, ironically, a gift from my co-workers when my father died.  So at the time I took this picture the violet was around 2 1/2 years old.

I confess growing it for the most part was done without much thought.  It grew in one of those self-watering pots so I kept the reservoir filled and cut off any blossom or leaf as soon as it looked sick.

Turned out there were a lot of African Violet nurturers in our office building.  All with lots of rules on how to grow this flower with a reputation for being finicky.  Of course I was doing everything wrong. Of course this flower doesn’t like change in it’s environment, period so everyone warned me not to EVER MOVE IT FROM THE SPOT ON MY DESK.

When I had to stop working I had to bring the violet home.  Neither it nor I were happy being home all the time.  Despite my focused attempts, my desire to succeed and a fear of failure the violet died.

I grieved the loss of a plant.  I grieved its loss more than I grieved the loss of my father.  My sorrow wove itself into the fabric of my heart, intertwined with the threads of unhappiness over forced retirement, the loss of knowing who and what I was anymore and my physical pain.

Unlike my violet the tentacles of death I felt didn’t have a firm enough grip on me to succeed.  The difference?  The gardener.

Like the violet I don’t like change, especially drastic change especially.  Unlike the violet I am adapting.

See, my Creator, the same Creator as my African Violet, has a plan for me to continue living and we have a relationship that allows communication.  Complete communication.

I am learning to accept where I am now because God is faithful, trustworthy and knows what is best for me.  Sadly my violet didn’t understand that, but, being it was a flower not a human that reality is understandable.

God promises never to leave or forsake us and He has given us a lifetime assignment. (Matthew 28:16-20)

He promises a plan and a purpose for our lives.  (Jeremiah 29:11).

Our Master Gardener knew us in our mother’s womb. (Psalm 139:13).

Most of all He tells us He is the vine and we are the branches.  To be alive we must abide in Him. (John 15:1-17).

Yes, He makes all the difference.  My way of caring for my violet adapted but the finicky plant couldn’t.  Gratefully, God always gives me His best because He has an intimate knowledge of me. 

Change happens.  God is always in control. 

-Faye