Outgrown

@audreycfrank

Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord and whose trust is the Lord. For he will be like a tree planted by the water, that extends its roots by a stream and will not fear when the heat comes; but its leaves will be green, and it will not be anxious in a year of drought nor cease to yield fruit (Jeremiah 17:7-8, NASB).

The rubber plant in my dining room is reaching toward the sun this morning. Day after day I have walked past it without noticing. When I brought it home the first day so many years ago, it was a small starter plant that I hoped would grow to fill the immense ceramic pot in which I placed it. Over the years I have pruned, shaped, watered, and fertilized this lovely little tree. 

Today as I walked by, intent on the busyness of the day, I stopped in my tracks. The tree was beckoning to me, imploring me to notice it. Large green leaves on strong stems reached upward, stretching in the golden morning light. 

It has outgrown its pot, I thought to myself. It cannot grow any bigger in that beautiful planter. It needs a newer, larger space in which to grow.

The rubber plant can grow taller than a two-story house. We had one such tree in our walled garden in Africa. Its beautiful evergreen boughs adorned our windows at Christmas and provided shady refuge in summer. Our children played hide and seek inside its sheltering labyrinth.

The small tree in my dining room could outgrow me if allowed. It reminds me of another plant growing in my home, one who has outgrown his pot much like my ficus elastica. He is reaching toward the sun, arms outstretched, growing strong and tall. He beckons to me, imploring me to notice his need for more space to grow.

My son, the one whom I nestled so long ago within the beautiful vessel called our home, is outgrowing his space. We brought him home from the hospital as a baby and surrounded him with hope and love, joyfully anticipating how he would grow. And grow he has. Over the years we have watered this sweet boy with our love, fertilized him with grace, shaped him, and pruned him. 

My boy has become a young man. He is taller than me now. I look at him and I feel small.

Why are we mothers always so prepared, so ready, so intuitive, yet so surprised when our children move into the next stage of life? That mysterious force we call a mother’s love shimmers with contradictions. We nurture, yet we prune. We shelter, yet we expose. We hold on tight, yet we must eventually let go.

Our children were made to grow beyond our borders, to bear fruit of their own. Letting go is a painful and necessary part of that process. #parenting Share on X

I will buy a new pot for my rubber plant soon. One with much room to grow.

As I search for just the right vessel, I will ask God to prepare my heart for another replanting. I will ask Him to make me ready for the yielding of a mother to the growth of a child, the releasing of roots bound up tight in the confines of her embrace, the exhilarating, excruciating freedom of letting this precious one reach his full stature.

And I will watch in wonder and praise as the One who makes plants grow into trees makes my boy grow into a man.

Lord, thank You for holding on to my child even as I must let go. And for holding on to me as I trust you. Amen.