The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.
How often have I heard this expression? How often have I said it? How often have I nodded my head in assent as it fell off another's lips with certainty and nonchalance?
How many times have I felt the discontentment, envy, cynicism or resignation that is wrapped up in this statement?What about you?
Think about life as dirt, with certain seeds that were placed there when I was created, before my birth (Ephesians 2:10).These seeds are the gifts and abilites, the choices, the opportunities and relationships that I would inevitably and undeservedly walk into by merely being born. I picture them waiting there for water and sun and eventual germination. Some of them grow right away, others grow slowly and need a little fertilization, some are not meant to flower until enough time and experience has passed, and some will never grow unless I pointedly cultivate and discipline them.
In me, these seeds are accompanied by an incessant and often secret thirst to pursue them to their most excellent end. I long to be in bloom, to stretch my mind, heart and soul to the very ends of my God-given abilities, to dive deeply into each appointed relationship, to make the most of each moment I am given. I seek to discover the trick of dropping off those unfruitful or weedy or bug-infested propensities that "so easily entangle me and run with endurance the race that is set before me..." (Hebrews 12:1). I am driven to be a garden in thriving vigor, succumbing to the beauty of each season with grace and humility.
Instead of always looking at my neighbor's lawn with anything but kindness and celebration for their very green grass, why not determine to have it all? Why not live a life full of life? Why not embrace who I am, what I've been through, and who I was meant to be? Why not be thankful for my particular handful of seeds, and why not grow and thrum and sing in the time that I have?
In being born, I have been given dirt. And seeds. The water and sun has been provided in many ways. The growth is up to me. I can choose to be a plot of dirt bereft of flower and color, with drooping stems and jealous roots. I can be average and settle for lesser growth and thinner heart and lighter fruit-bearing.
Or I can come to life, fill out superbly, accept the self that was fearfully and wonderfully made for a purpose and reach roots and stems and petals to the utmost of their longings and to the outskirts of possibility.
This blog, my new fun, has been named The Greenest Version. As I write about my faith, my marriage, motherhood, creative pursuits, the daily routine, doubts, struggles and victories, may you be inspired to the same determination.
May we insist on being chunks of sod infused with real growth and new growth, with bravery for each season, with love for the us that was made, and with surrender to a wildly creative and hugely huge God. May we live our best life and be the best version of what was intended at our very beginning.
May we be The Greenest Version.