Beautiful Buds

Still thinking about the stunted growth of some beautiful buds. Crying out to God for those whose early experiences came as assaults of harsh winds and driving rain, leaving them bruised and hurting, wounding them deeply. Jesus called his Father the gardener, and Isaiah declares that this gardener won’t break a bruised reed, or indeed a beautiful rosebud. He is a nurturing gardener, a wise gardener, a gardener who (unlike me) knows which food to apply when, which branches to prune, which wee beasties to zap. He is a gardener whose healing touch transforms what is closing in on itself, encouraging it to open up to the sunshine and bloom. To be unique, fragrant and beautiful in a way that nobody else can be. To let go of the hurts and the torments and turn to Him, allowing his healing to flow through the hurt and bring restoration and assurance of his love, his everlasting, unconditional love.

I’m so aware that often God delegates to us, his children, and know that in and of myself I am a hopeless gardener, either outside or in trying to encourage growth and healing in others. So today, as every day, I cry out to Jesus, for a fresh in-filling of Holy Spirit, to guide, inspire and empower. He is my everything.

Blooming Beautiful

I love the roses that grow so well, right outside the windows of the conservatory. I don’t prune them back too far, so that their long stems and blooms rise above the window sill and I can enjoy them from inside.

I love it when I see the buds forming, lots of them in response to a good feed, and anticipate the lovely, fragrant blooms they are going to be.

And then, sometimes – this being Scotland, the rains and winds come and play havoc with the buds. They bash them around and water accumulates on the unopened blooms, where it sits and rots the buds into brown cocoons which die off. Unrealised potential. Sad.

To God, we are each a rose bud. Full of promise, beauty and fragrance. Joy. Peace. Hope. He loves each bud, and has plans, good plans, for every one of us. Some of us endure stronger winds, wilder rains than we should, though, when we are at a tender age, and our spirits can wither within. But they don’t drop off, and the tender touch of our Lord can love these stunted buds into Life, and ‘make up for the years the locust has eaten’. 

Praying today for all whose starts in life were traumatic, loveless and sad. Praying that the whisper of the Spirit would encourage and fill all with hope, and would confirm that by the only one who really counts, they are loved.