Anniversaries and encouragements...

I once read a book where the author wrote about "anniversaries of the heart." She was referring to the way that we as human beings tend to remember dates and seasons that were meaningful or significant in our lives - even if that anniversary is a secret one for us, passing unknown and unnoticed by others.  It might be a sad memory, like remembering the day someone died, or it might be associated with a good memory - like the day you moved into your new house. I'm approaching the time of year that holds something of an "anniversary of the heart" for me. This year will be the seventh anniversary of my leaving South Africa and moving back to Europe.

In fact, there are several anniversaries associated with that transition season in my life. I clearly remember the first day I realised that my time in South Africa might soon be coming to an end: that was kind of a shock, as I'd expected until then that I might probably be in Cape Town for the rest of my life. I also remember the day I got on the plane with as much luggage as I could manage to take with me - the day I said goodbye to my dogs and cat, knowing I might never see them again. I remember arriving back in Europe, and feeling like some kind of refugee who had left her "real home" on the other side of the world. In fact, one day I wrote in my journal that I felt like an "amputee" - like some integral part of me had been cut off and was suddenly gone now.  I spent a lot of time in prayer, seeking God's direction for my next ministry steps and possible future fruitfulness. I remember the day, about a year later, when I arrived in Spain, and began the process of making it my new home. And, as I think back over these past seven years, I can see so many signs of God's incredible faithfulness.

I think that's why the flourishing of my transplanted jade cuttings was a particularly meaningful illustration for me this month. You see, I'm not the world's greatest gardener, and some of my previous efforts to grow plants from cuttings had not been very successful. I didn't particularly undertake my jade transplanting with much foresight or care: I took a pair of secateurs and lopped some limbs off a bit violently. It wasn't even the healthiest of plants; some of the leaves had turned red around the edges from exposure to too much summer sun. What's more, I wasn't aware that you're supposed to leave the wounds to dry and callous over before planting them: I just plonked them into another piece of earth, and put some mesh around them to keep the cats away. That my "amputated" jade clippings have thrived so well and even borne such pretty flowers is a testimony to their resilience and a reminder to me of how we ourselves can be resilient and can flourish through all kinds of changes and transitions - especially when we have God the master gardener in charge of the process. His way of transplanting people is much more thoughtful and planned out than my amateur efforts with my jade.

The little jade plant in my living room has no roots yet…. but one day it will have. After breaking the cup and deciding to "redeem" it for use as a plant pot, I simply took my secateurs and cut a limb from the flourishing plant in the back garden. Right now, it's small and rootless in its little pot in my lounge. But one day it will be firmly rooted and will have reached the point where cuttings can be taken from it and even more new plants can be birthed. That's the nature of transition: in the beginning, we might feel small and rootless in our new location… but eventually it becomes home, eventually God's blessing becomes more obvious, and eventually the "anniversaries" you remember are the ones that were special in your new location. 

Friends of mine, who moved to Spain after decades of fruitful ministry in Scotland, shared the insight that you can't grow roots and fruits at the same time; they noticed this when they moved house and transplanted some of their plants too. You need to allow the plants, whether trees or flowers, enough time to put down new and strong roots, before you can expect them to start bearing healthy and abundant fruit. Often, ministry starts slowly in the new place and then grows steadily over years of investment and commitment. All of us in our team have seen this since moving to Spain over the past years.  We've also seen that, when God is in the transition, there will always be fruit in the end. Whether your transition started hesitantly or violently, whether it started with optimism or trepidation, whether you spoke the language at the beginning or not…. you won't be a "refugee" for ever; you'll eventually become well rooted and will bear abundant fruit in your new home. And even if your transition is not a geographical one…. you can still trust God through the process and look forward to seeing good fruit further down the road. The Bible tells us (Hebrews 13: 8) that God is unchanging - that He's yesterday, today and forever the same. And yet there is no one better to have by your side when you are navigating life's transitions and changes. God can be trusted and what a blessing it is to have Him as our Guide.