Growth.

I walked out this morning to see my first gardenia bloom of the year popping bright and white. How fitting, I thought, that today it boast in brillant resurection, like proud joy. Just yesterday, I had watered it, but today it bloomed.

A few years ago, my friend Sandy sat down with me amidst my tears and spoke that God was tilling up the soil of my heart. It was a painful process. A tearing, ripping, straining, yanking, scraping process. But the soil was tilled. My soul was tilled.

Over the next season, a process of pruning began. Figuring out friendships, family, relationships. Analyzing and picking apart the ones that bring green, that spur new life, that flourish. And, then cutting away, or cutting back, the ones that don't. This too, was hard. Difficult. For me, and the relational branches that beckoned to take away the nutrients to my heart. But the pruning was fruitful. It shed to bring full bud to new friendships, and fully care for old ones.

And in the recent season, I see blossom. I see fruitful colors leaping up all over the place; the garden of my heart is full! There are vibrant pinks and yellows and purples, like flowers bursting to the sunlight -- my home, my church, my friends, my fiance. They are grown and grounded, rooted and reaching.

Today, as I walked out and saw that first gardenia, I saw growth. Today, as I see the Gardener's work in me, I see growth.