I trimmed them back on a Tuesday, during a burst of domestic enthusiasm while the kids played nearby. A task that was once an enjoyable winter-to-spring ritual long ago became an afterthought, a quick decision made in between blowing bubbles and refereeing arguments. And so it was this time as well…a chore completed with little introspection before I moved on to the busy-ness of my life.

By Friday morning, bold, green stalks had sprouted up through the brown ones. Determined pioneers reached skyward, ready to grow into a lush, butterfly-enticing plant. How quickly and confidently they sought light.

You must make room for something to grow, a wise friend once shared. When it seems you are asked to create a space where none exists, then cut back the weathered excuses, the stale ideas, the ancient hang-ups and you will find opportunity.

Make room for growth and it will unfurl like never before.

Comments

  1. Oh Liz. I know you couldn’t possibly have decided to sit down and write this exquisite post just for me. And yet it is exactly what I needed to read. Tonight, in this moment.
    What a gift you and your writing are, to me and everyone blessed enough to read your words. Thank you for all your insights and the lovely way you articulate them. You really such an extraordinary writer.

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