(Nimue)
Last week I shared some things that came up for me after I rescued an abandoned house plant. I really wasn't sure the plant could survive, given the terrible state it was in. About half of its leaves had shrived and died. All of its remaining leaves were in the process of shrivelling and dying. The poor thing had been exposed to more heat, cold and water than it could bear.
Put in a space that suits its needs, the plant has survived. It's actually done more than that, it seems to be recovering. Areas of leaf that were brown and dead a week ago are turning green and coming back to life. It's a slow process and for the first few days I didn't really believe what I was seeing. I've never known a plant do anything like this before. Given how brown, dry and dead those leaves looked, this has defied all expectations.
There's a message in here, about possibility beyond expectation. Not everything can be healed. Some of the leaves fell off, those aren't coming back. Many of the dead ones show no signs of reviving. But, in the leaves where a little green remained, recovery is taking place. There's more scope for hope here than I dared to think. I saw a lot of my own experiences reflected in how this plant had been treated, so I'm inclined to take personally this recovery process and gift of hope.
Sometimes things that appear to be dead, can be brought back with love and care and patience. This is a good lesson for me around my own healing processes and my capacity for faith and hope.
The thing is, this was my plant all along. I missed that bit out of the first story, an act of care in not drawing attention to the person whose lack of care had nearly killed a leafy being I have cared about for years. This peace lily was given to me by a friend many years ago. Apparently it wasn't wanted where it was, and rather than giving it back to me, it was put outside in conditions that would shortly have killed it. It was lucky for both me and for the plant that I saw it in time and was able to rescue it. As an experience it hurt me deeply, because blatant lack of thought and care tends to do that.
Love, care, patience and kindness restores plants and people alike. We thrive when we're safe and wanted and when our needs are understood and respected. It's just as true for me as it is for the plant. It would be true for all of us, I think. And so my own healing journey parallels what has happened to this plant and in its recovery I feel hopeful that I see my own healing and rebuilding too.
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