Crying Over Potted Plants

Monday I bought a whole lot of beautiful flowers and pepper and tomato plants and potted them.  I was hopeful for spring. Hopeful the warm temps wouldn't let me down. Today I carried all 27 pots into my garage because the forecast calls for frost and cold temps the next few days. I'm sure if the plants could talk they'd tell you how sad they are to have been taken out of their beautifully chosen places and the wonderful sunshine and stuck in a garage. I was certainly a bit sad placing them there.

Monday I mailed a letter to each student in my class checking in on them, sharing stories of my time at home, and letting them know that I missed them and hoped to see them soon. Today ww got news that the school year is "over". Oh, we will see it through til our scheduled end day of May 15th, but it will be with weekly assignments, distance learning, and an occasional video chat. I was certainly (more than) a bit sad hearing this.

In fact, when I read the announcement, I cried. And then, I had to tell my daughter - and she cried (which, of course, meant I cried again). And, though I've never been one to cry over plants (because, why?) I teared up carrying pots into the garage. Because coupled with the sense of loss I was feeling about school, moving all my pots to the garage felt, well, hopeless.

Turns out, sad is my least favorite feeling. So, I started searching for a better focus, and I realized, I wasn't putting the plants in the garage because I'm hopeless ... its actually a move full of hope. 

See, when I use the word hope, I use it to mean "to look forward to with desire and reasonable confidence". I haven't given up hope on spring. I'm still looking forward to it with desire and I still have reasonable confidence that consistently warm temperatures will come. The next few days of cold is simply a display of the fickleness of Missouri ... in fact, a few cold spells as spring starts is, well, part of spring. I'm not giving up my plants, I'm giving them a better chance. A chance to stay a bit warmer so that in a short time they can get back out to their spots and live their best plant lives.

I haven't given up hope on our world getting back to normal either. I still look forward to it with desire and have reasonable confidence that it will happen. Sure, it looks like it's going to take (more than) a bit longer than I'd like to happen, but eventually businesses will reopen, people will leave their home offices to venture back to their work places, and students will fill my classroom again. The next short period of stay at home orders and school closures is simply a display of the fickleness of our world. 

Furthermore, this time of abnormal-ness is a reminder of how important it is that my true hope is not of this world. That my true hope comes from my belief and faith in God and is rooted in the assurances we have from Him. Romans 5:1 "Through Him we have also. obtained access by faith into this grace. in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God."  

So, I'm adjusting my perspective - albeit, forcefully at times - and I'm still hoping.

I'm hoping that I can make the most of this time at home with my husband and my girls.

I'm hoping that my community, and my country, can rebound quickly from this chaos.

I'm hoping that my students will use this time to learn all sorts of things I might not have taught them (and maybe read a little, too).

I'm hoping this time works to build stronger family units across our country and world.

I'm hoping this time of separation drives people to reach out to one another.

I'm hoping that when we get back to normal we remember to be thankful for all the things we took for granted before this time.

And, I'm hoping that through all the chaos, God is glorified by His people and their handling of the situation, and their faith.

Crying over potted plants seems really silly once you realize how much there is to be hopeful for.

Psalms 25:5 "Guide me in Your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long."