Thursday, October 15, 2009

My Thyme Is In His Hands

I've never had a green thumb. Blue and black on occasion from missing the nail head with the hammer I'm swinging, but not green. I don't think I even have green blood in me--a grave dilemma for a flower lover.

My sister bought me pansies for my birthday when I was probably 9 or 10, which I tried oh so carefully to care for--they died.

A few years later I purchased some seeds for some lovely blue morning glories,which I planted at the right time and faithfully nurtured--they died.

People have given me plants off and on through the years, plants I've tried everything and anything to keep their little hearts ticking away--they died.

So it's with a sigh of acceptance (or resignation, take your pick) that I admit I am no gardener. Vegetable gardens I seem to be capable of--but flowers dislike living with me, so much that it literally kills them.

Thus my attempts have turned to herbs, for I could not give up--my mother has a green thumb, so surely, SURELY some of her greenness transferred to my genes. It's a small hope, but a live one nonetheless.

I brought home some chives & thyme from the nursery 3 miles away. It's a nice little place,with a decent plant selection and prices. I purchased planting soil, and some darling little flowered flower pots I found at the dollar store. I read the instructions carefully (yes, I have to read instructions when I plant) and set them in the proper place to get just the right amount of sunlight and watered them as often as the instructions said. The chives grew beautifully!

Soon I was cooking with them, eating them in salads, and finally getting the satisfaction of knowing I wasn't permanently doomed to silk leaves and buds. But the grew slowly. Barely. Not dying--which I was relieved over--but not growing like I'd hoped. I tried and tried to get it grow. I tried to manage it to produce the results I wanted. I'd been told not to water it a whole lot, so I didn't.

Still it didn't work.

Finally, I got tired of trying. I left it out in the heavy rains and just forgot about it. I didn't care at that point if it lived or died. It was eminent--my thumb was not and never would be green.

I went about my business day after day, not thinking about it until I happened to glance over at it and wow, it was growing like never before--tall, strong, big. I couldn't believe it. I let go of my thyme, and it grew!

You're all probably guessing where I'm going with this. The fact is, my mom and I often make little puns about "my thyme" meaning "my time". Mostly because we're both goofballs and we're glad to have someone else who understands. But the Lord has often used that little lesson of letting go of my thyme to teach me a lesson about letting go of the other kind.

You see, I don't like to be interrupted very much. My time is MINE.

Or so my selfish human nature wants to think. The truth is, God is very good at constantly bringing someone into my day who needs me to pray for or with them, or help them with something, or just listen as they pour out their heart, or just talk with them so they have someone to talk to, or a myriad of other reasons why I must give up my time for someone else. Even something as simple as setting aside the paperwork I need to do, for a few minutes, to play with my niece. Time is precious, yes--but people matter more.
And if Jesus is Lord of my life--isn't He Lord of my time as well?

It's His to use as He wishes--to give to whom He wishes. It amazes me how whenever I let go of my time for someone else, and put it back in His hands, He flourishes it, and somehow I'm able to still do what I need to do along with giving that time to others.

Maybe some day I'll grow a green thumb. Even then, I'm leaving my thyme--and time--in the hands of the One who created it all for His glory.


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