Thirsty

On plant stands in the window at the top of the stairway, I have two plants from my grandmother’s funeral eight years ago. I carried those plants with me in the move from my old house – the house my grandmother was so beaming proud for me to own…and the house where I brought those plants after her home-going – to this one, where the kids and I started fresh a few years ago, after the life my grandmother was so proud for me to have imploded spectacularly. Those plants, like the life lessons she taught me, have gone with me from place to place in life. Not just the physical dwellings but the emotional places. The highs and lows, the mountains and valleys.

Sometimes during highest of highs or lowest of lows…or sometimes when life’s terrain is fairly flat but just insanely busy, I pass by the plants and notice that I’ve neglected them. Sad, droopy leaves hang limply over the edge of the pot, cast down toward the floor, desperate for a bit of water and care. Never, with the way I loved my grandmother, would I intentionally neglect these last reminders of her, yet somehow in the busy-ness of life or in the fatigue of running wide open, conquering valleys and climbing hills, I forget them all the same.

The plants don’t require much really. They’re placed in the sun, so that part is handled. All I’m responsible for is a bit of attention here and there, occasional removal of unhealthy parts, and water. Water being most important. With just a little bit of water, those sad, drooping, limp, thirsty leaves rise up again, reaching toward the sun, once again refreshed and ready to keep living.

So it is with my soul, I’ve found.

Sometimes during highest of highs or lowest of lows…or sometimes when life’s terrain is fairly flat but just insanely busy, I feel my soul sagging sadly, cast down toward the ground, desperate for a bit of water and care. Never, with the way I love the Lord would I intentionally neglect my soul’s relationship with Him, yet somehow in the busy-ness of life or in the fatigue of running wide open, conquering valleys and climbing hills, I neglect Him all the same.

I’m placed in Him – secure in my salvation. All I’m responsible for is a bit of attention here and there – maybe prayer, journaling, time in the Word, or a few minutes with some Jesus music; occasional removal of unhealthy parts – spiritual pruning if you will, when the overall health of your soul depends on removing things that are draining life or wellness; and water – living water that quenches every thirst of my soul and promises I’ll never thirst again.

And when I water my life with just a little bit of that Living Water, my sad, dry, desperate, castdown, longing, thirsty soul rises up again, reaching toward the Son, once again refreshed and ready to keep living.