By Lynna Clark
We have the most beautiful hydrangea bush I’ve ever seen. This year it’s been on its best behavior. Giant blooms which start out a light green, turn pink, then violet and eventually a gorgeous deep purple, Oh! It gives me such joy. So many times I’ve tried to root the bush. I’ve tried Root Tone, stems in a jar of water, placing a brick on a low limb while pushing the still attached shoot into fertile soil… all the things. Last year I thought I had one off-shoot take root. I babied it until I thought it was strong enough, then carefully moved it to a better place. A short while later, it gave up the ghost. But my heart took courage when my daughter brought a cutting from my mother-in-law’s big white snowball bush. That was another favorite we’d been trying to root since Nina’s passing. It too keeled over shortly after the transplant. Fast forward to this summer. Two little shoots struggled upward in the flowerbed to the side of our wheelchair ramp. I could hardly believe my eyes when Hannah pointed them out to me as their heads poked up above the coneflowers and black-eyed-Susans. If they would just hang on in this southern heat, maybe next year they’d be strong enough to bush and bloom. It gave me hope. Hey. A girl can dream!
Fast forward again to the day we planned to bring David home from the hospital to begin Hospice care. I stepped outside on the ramp as we waited for the ambulance transport and nearly rested my hand on the rail where a snake lay sunning itself. I stumbled backward into the house as I sputtered and choked on my own spit. Stephanie, who was here to help with her Dad, came running. Together we looked out the glass door to see that the snake still made itself at home on the handrail. If there’s anything David hates worse than snakes, I sure don’t know what it would be. And the transport people would be wheeling him up that very ramp any minute. Not the homecoming I had planned.
Out a different door Stephanie flew as she grabbed a hoe and knocked that slimy demon onto the ground. Like lightning, Slimy Demon shot through the undergrowth. Stephanie was not having it. She chopped at that wicked reptile with all her might. I was so proud. Except I was hoping and maybe even praying a little that she didn’t whack off my fledgling hydrangeas. It’s crazy what we think about when confronted with the unexpected. Finally, the chopping stopped. Slowly, she returned the hoe to stand guard at it’s normal place, then came in to hug me. There may have been a few tears. It had been a hard morning. The car had also died on the way to sign him out that morning. But she did it! Her daddy was on his way home, even if it was just for a few days before he was transported to his true Home. At least while he was here, he did not have to worry about snakes or the car or anything else that he would normally protect his favorite girls from. And I forgot all about the babied hydrangea sprouts.
My grandson Jesse got rid of the snake carcass. The following week progressed in a blur until David was truly called Home. It was a bittersweet time with family and friends gathered for meals and hard good byes. Then everything got quiet.
This morning, three weeks later as I watered my plants, I noticed. Both cuttings look to be thriving. It’s hard, but I’m trying to take joy in that. Life goes on… until it doesn’t. At times we can be brave and feel such victory. But sometimes not so much. I’m learning. God does not expect me to be brave all the time. There is a time for every purpose under Heaven. And I’m finding, that when I draw near to Him, He really does draw near to me. Best of all, I will see my Beloved again before too long. In the mean time, the sorrow is very real. But! “I will not sorrow as those who have no hope.” -from 1 Thess. 4:13. The same God that David and I have served and trusted all our lives, will carry us safely Home.
