Brought in the fig tree from my sister – out of winter’s cold
Leaves slowly wither - all that remains is a stick
It looks dead
It sits in our garage - I water it – occasionally-
My dead stick
I think there’s life under that ground, but I can’t be certain.
(This is my first year growing a fig)
The winter goes on long
Dark in the garage
But I water my stick
Will it come back to life?
I believe it will
I hope it will
Spring arrives – the ground begins to warm
Soon I will see if my stick survived
I bring it into the warmth of the basement
I am thrilled- YES!
It is still alive!
When the nights turn warm I dig a hole and plant my fig back outside
The fig grows – it flourishes.
I can relate
In the past two years I was stripped till I felt bare as a stick
But underneath I knew my roots were still intact.
The warmth and sunshine of God’s love came through his people,
And the watering of His word did its work
By the grace of God I survived
I am alive and flourishing!