I always viewed myself as a plot of land. When watered and given sun, I could grow amazing things. When nurtured, I would be free to nurture any seed that was entrusted to me. But nurtured I was not, and slowly but surely, I dried out. Keeping with the field analogy, I was likely a cracked plot of rock-like soil, barren and condensed beyond reviving. Around the time this analogy got worked out in my mind, I realized it was all wrong.
For one, I’m not dirt. Nor will I be until my body has fully decomposed many years after I am dead and gone. More accurately, I am a dormant seed. A seed that is just waiting for the right conditions for growth. I wasn’t hopeless and broken at all. I merely felt the pressure of the life being sucked from the land that was supposed to support me. I went into hiding purely for survival purposes. And can you blame me? I tried to do just that, but I couldn’t. Because like it or not, dirt or seedling, I am still known and loved by God. Fully and eternally. The regrets of things I now realize I never controlled to begin with never reflected poorly on me. Because I was never my environment. And my environment was never me.
The biggest regret I have is viewing myself as a situation to be fixed, assuming that I was only worth my utility. Regardless of the plot of land around me, I’m not the Gardener. I’m not tasked with supporting everyone around me, coaxing growth from the seedlings in proximity. As a seedling, my only job is to grow in timing that I don’t need to control. The Gardener will tend to the rest, and I need only let Him coax the best out of me.