Every year, come September, I finish watering and feeding my plants. After that, the rain takes care of the maintenance watering, and the plants shouldn’t need to eat again till they start a new growth period in early spring. Autumn and winter are periods of dormancy for garden plants. They don’t grow taller, fuller, or develop leaves or blossoms. Instead, with what energy they do have, they push their roots deeper and wider. Or they sleep.
Dormancy is a tough season for plants to live through, which is why they draw inward. The weather is colder and windier, and they have less protection. There is little sun to bless their branches and lots of ice to curse them. It’s when they put their heads down and bear things out.
Then, thankfully, a few months later, the weather thaws and the ground softens, and the first signs of hope begin to push up through the soil. The way is led by bulbs planted in advance, with hope but no promise. First, the snowdrops unfurl, transitioning us from real snow to real blooms. Next follow crocus, often shooting through a pile of crispy, moldering fall leaves. Then daffodils reflect the April sun, and we are on our way to a new warm season.
When spring arrives at last, the plants begin to let loose. I watch them leaf out, each in its season, popping out tiny buds ready to blossom. Last year’s perennials grow another several inches, or maybe even a foot, if the plant is a fast grower. They are prepared to do new things and reach new heights, so this is the time to feed them again.
Just like plants, we, too, have dormant periods. Things slow down, or maybe circumstances and situations force us to dig deep and plant hope for better days ahead. We’ve got our heads down and our teeth clenched, and we are doing what we can to get through a cold, icy season where, it seems, nothing grows, and the landscape is devoid of beauty and joy. But all the time, whether we realize it or not, our roots are growing stronger against the whipping wind (Col. 2:6-7), our branches growing tougher bark against that ice.
Then it’s time to rest.
Plants don’t have confidence or stick-to-itiveness. They simply do what they are created to do. Bloom, shine, drop a season’s glory, rest, and then flourish once more. Our world sometimes infers that life is to be one ringing victory after another, a never-ending high note. Scripture teaches differently. “For everything, there is an appointed time, and an appropriate time for every activity on earth: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to uproot what was planted” (Eccl. 3:1-2).
When it comes time for us to blossom again, when the sun shines once more, we’ll be ready to face the new season in beautiful grandeur (Ps. 1:3). Our gardener will feed us what we need to grow (Phil. 4:19). We will send shoots up through the piles of pain and past that might still gather at our feet—until the spring winds blow them away.
Is this a cold season for you? Hold on. Rest in the Lord, in Whom we plant hope. Spring is on the way.
Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from him.
Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken (Psalm 62:5-6).
Taken from Dwell: 90 Days at Home with God by Sandra Byrd © 2023. Used by permission of Our Daily Bread Publishing®, Box 3566, Grand Rapids, MI 49501. All rights reserved. Further distribution is prohibited without written permission from Our Daily Break Publishing® at permissionsdept@odb.org
Sandra Byrd, beloved author of more than fifty books, has drawn inspiration from window views and cozy armchairs to craft her latest devotional, Dwell: 90 Days at Home with God.
For more about Sandra’s book or to order your own copy, go to https://www.amazon.com/Dwell-90-Days-Home-God/dp/164070227X/ref=sr.
