I noticed a couple weeks ago, that one of my succulent plants had an unpleasant looking friend moving in right next to it. It was none other then "Lepiota lutea". This little fellow was melding itself right along my succulent's stems, and it looked like it was multiplying. While it wasn't known to be harmful to the plants, it certainly wasn't a pleasant site.
I had read that when this fungus grows, the best way to get rid of it, is to completely repot the plant and be sure to remove any contaminated soil. So I did. I realized the poor succulent probably need a repotting a long time ago. The soil was rock solid, and the rocks that were laid on top initially were almost cemented in. I did my best to gently remove the soil from the roots and rid the plant of any nasty fungus remains. I carefully replanted it in an even bigger pot and now it has cute little stems growing even bigger than before!
While reading Foster's book of prayer, he had written one about God being the gardener of our souls. Images of me replanting my succulent, pruning my basil and thyme plants, and seeing my plants that were once near death slowly coming back to life popped in my head as I read and reread the prayer. And then utterances of thanks were said, that God is a much better gardener than I am (seeing as how I forget to water or prune my plants sometimes).
Amazing that God is such a loving and careful gardener. Removing things that aren't necessarily harmful to me but get in the way of me truly growing. Pruning areas that are causing me to waste energy and time when I could be devoting my time to areas that have a greater need. Standing back in excitement and adoring me when I continue to grow healthier and stronger. Continually tending to me and caring for me, putting me in places that I can flourish in.
BE THE GARDENER OF MY SOUL
Spirit of the living God, be the gardener of my
soul. For so long I have been waiting silent and still -
experiencing a winter of the soul. But now, in the strong
name of Jesus Christ, I dare to ask:
Clear away the dead growth of the past,
Break up the hard clods of custom and routine,
Stir in the rich compost of vision and challenge,
Bury deep in my soul the implanted Word.
Cultivate and water and tend my heart.
Until new life buds and opens and flowers.