Dear Daughters,

I hope when you are adult the word “hashtag” doesn’t really exist, or rather I hope at least that English language speakers have moved on to some other bizarre way of articulating their feelings. But hashtags are indeed a thing right now in this strange world where social media influences language choices.

There’s one hashtag in particular that’s been annoying me: #bloomwhereyouareplanted.

That is, bloom where you’re planted.

At first glance, it probably seems like something I’d endorse, doesn’t it? No matter your circumstances or current situation, find and live a beautiful life. Yada yada yada.

The thing is, flowers don’t control their blooming. And just because they’re blooming doesn’t mean they’re healthy.

(For example, trees and plants that are under stress often bloom and go to seed in a desperate attempt to survive. Our large maple tree that was completely rotted at its core was still producing helicopters this spring.)

Now, if the focus were on roots, that I could potentially get behind. I do think we need to work on sending our roots down deep to find nourishment. But whether that results in blooms? I’m not sure. Sometimes it doesn’t rain, girls. Sometimes the sun is scorching hot. Sometimes, sometimes, sometimes.

Today I picked up my Bible and read a Psalm in which twice—TWICE—the psalmist mentioned feeling “withered like grass.”

When I read that, it really rooted itself in my heart. (See what I did there? What can I say, I amuse myself.)

I thought, YES, that is how I feel. That is how I have been the last few days. Withered. Exhausted. Run down. Unsettled. I’ve not been sleeping well and I’ve been unfocused. I can’t pinpoint a cause, but probably hormones, because that’s life. One of my friends suggested maybe it’s related to the lunar cycle. Who knows. But “withered like grass” felt like a good way to describe how I have been feeling.

Except—and this is the problem with overthinking everything—I’m pretty familiar with grass these days, so I really started thinking about what it meant to be withered like grass.

There are two different reasons why grass “withers,” as far as I can tell. One is because of lack of nourishment. Not enough rain. Too much heat. Grass will stop growing and then turn brown. It gets hard and scratchy. (When we lived in Texas, one time when your dad fell while playing ultimate frisbee in the grass, he had a huge gash in his leg because the grass cut his leg open. The grass!)

But grass also withers in the winter time.

That’s just seasonal, girls. Winter is dormancy, and it’s heading toward Spring, and lots of beautiful things are happening under the surface, but it’s STILL BROWN AND SCRATCHY AND UGLY.

So a seasonal withering doesn’t necessarily feel good but is totally a normal part of the spiritual life. It’s worth acknowledging. And it probably hurts, but there’s beauty coming.

But back to that first kind of withering—that lack of rain and too much sun kind—the withering that comes from being undernourished? Well, if one thing this summer has taught me from mowing the lawn is that as soon as the rain comes, that grass can shoot right up. It doesn’t seem to matter just how long it’s been. That grass will grow more than an inch a day. It will crowd out the vegetable plants growing in the raised beds. It will need to be mowed twice a week and still look shaggy.

There is so much metaphor packed in here, girls. You know I love a good metaphor. And I don’t even care if my unpacking of the metaphor is poor exegesis.

Because I’m feeling withered.

But that’s not a hopeless place to be. That’s what I’m trying to say.

Love,
Your Momma