Poisoned, Overwatered, and Sunburned... One Leaf Left

In August of 2008, I was preparing to re-enter the workforce after being home with my girls for several years.  So many things were changing at once, and even though I was excited, I was nervous too.  In the span of a few weeks, I had interviewed for one position, been hired for another, and was now preparing to teach 3rd grade.  At a luncheon just before school started, I was introduced to my co-teacher, Jodi. (3rd grade is team taught, with one teacher responsible for Language Arts and the other for Science, Math, and Social Studies.)  She and I found common ground quickly, and although I don't remember all we talked about, it felt like we were old friends.  We were glad to learn that we each had 2 girls, and I was glad that hers were older than mine so she could give me advice-- she has!

A few days later, I found myself in a bright yellow classroom with shiny, white floors, big windows, and about a million thoughts in my head.  I wasn't sure what to do first, so I stood there for a minute to take it in.  Something on my desk caught my attention.  I found a sweet card from Jodi next to a pretty green plant with delicate red flowers.  Even though I hardly knew anyone at that point, I felt like I was home.  That plant became a precious treasure to me that day for what it represented: friendship, endurance, and promise.

Before I continue, I need to tell you that I do not have horticultural skills.  None.  My mom has given me two orchids over the years, and both times, the blossoms fell off, the plants shriveled up painfully, and I gave them back to her for rehab.  Orchids love my mom and they perk right up as soon as they realize they're safe-- and away from me.  I'm not a faithful "waterer", nor am I "attentive" to things like light levels and temperature.  

 Because of this, the only flowers I have much success with are these.  I only have to keep the vase full, enjoy their fragrance, and then get rid of them when...

 
...they look like this.




(Yes, these are two different bouquets, and no, I'm not passing them off as the same.  I'm just impressed I still had Valentine's Day flowers to use in my illustration!  I got 8 days out of these!!)






Not knowing my track record, it was good that the plant Jodi gave me was a succulent.  Succulents, like cactuses (cacti?), only need to be watered about once a week, are fairly hardy, and do well indoors.  Mine was a Euphorbia, which basically means, "plant with poisonous, milky sap."  We didn't know that for a few years, though, so no worries.  :)  I don't have a picture of it from the beginning of our relationship, but the picture below will give you a good idea of what it looked like.

For about a year, the happy plant lived on my desk among 40 sweet children.  It was repeatedly knocked off of my desk, spilling dirt all over the floor.  I'm sure that over time, the potting mix became equal parts soil and pencil shavings, but that was ok.  It grew steadily taller, kept blooming, and made me feel like "the little Botanist that could."  When it came time for summer break, I packed up my room and brought my friend home for the summer.  

Mistake #1.

Still unaware of the poison lurking in its stems, I decided to keep the plant at home, in spite of the fact that my cats sometimes chew on leaves.  Thankfully, they never did, and it continued to look lovely on my kitchen counter.  Until it didn't.

Gradually, my trusty succulent started looking pretty pathetic.  The leaves would start growing, only to shrivel up, turn brown, and fall off.  I hadn't seen any flowers in months and it just didn't seem to be doing well.  Re-potting seemed like a logical next step, much like giving someone on tv IV fluids for pretty much any ailment whatsover.  I bought a cute pot, found some dirt in the garage, and did the transplant.  Later that night, I proudly reenacted the whole event for Chris - every detail - and showed him the dirt I used.  It was at this point that I realized I used outside potting soil, which the label explained to be hazardous to indoor plants as the fertilizer could burn roots.

Mistake #2.

We released the plant from its toxic pot, rinsed the roots, and replanted it in normal dirt from the backyard, which was mostly sand.  Without doing any research at all, I decided that a thorough watering would be the next step to restoring good health.  Within a week's time, the leaves began turning yellow and gave up one by one.  Every morning, I'd find more laying limp on the counter.  Through investigation, I realized that the combination of the sand and the small hole in the pot had made draining inadequate impossible.  I had created a bog.  Oops.  

Mistake #-- Wait-- I'm going to lump the next mistake together with this one.

What's the best way to dry out a drowning plant?  Use a hair dryer?  Give it a tumble on extra dry low?  Dump the dirt and start again?  I'm not sure, but I'll tell you what NOT to do.  Don't put it outside on a scorching July day.  If you do, 

this will happen.

Mistakes #3 & 4.









In the course of a few weeks, I had taken a healthy plant and poisoned its roots, drowned it, then sunburned its leaves.  After I baked it for 2 days, every leaf fell off except one.  (He's a fighter!)  At this point, there was only one thing left to do: look for help on the internet.  It would have simply been too easy to do that first, and then I wouldn't have this wonderful story to tell you.

After about 2 minutes of research, I learned that all it needed originally was a little more light.  What I did would have been the equivalent of taking a trip to the sun to boost your vitamin D levels!  The solution was simple and I had totally missed it; I needed to take my plant - what was left of it - back to school.

Sure enough, tiny leaves began sprouting at the top of some really sad-looking stems.  Not a looker anymore, this plant.  Not to others, anyway.  But to me - especially to me (I knew what I had done to it!) - it was a picture of perseverance and God's plan for redemption in spite of our mistakes.  No matter how often we mess up, or how badly, He is there to redeem and restore us.  As he sustains us and provides for us each day, we grow.  The leaves, though tiny, grew toward the light as they were made to do.  Through His creation, my Father was illustrating His love for me. 

In Jeremiah 29, the Lord is speaking to the Israelites who had survived the exile from Jerusalem to Babylon.  He spoke His promise to them in their time of darkness and desolation, a promise of His continued faithfulness to meet their every need.  One of my favorite verses, Jeremiah 29:11, came to mind every time I looked at this plant: 

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, 

"plans to prosper you and not to harm you, 

plans to give you hope and a future."

I am a visual learner.  I don't always pick up on subtle lessons.  This was definitely not a subtle lesson.  I tell everyone about this plant.  If you mention it to almost any of my coworkers, they'll tell you about the "one leaf" and what this plant means to me.  

My plant lives in my office now, on the corner of my desk where everyone can see it.  It's happy here, especially since it spent the summer on the windowsill "gaining strength", with my friend Marsha giving it just the right amount of water.

Here it is today, getting a little sun.  I propped it up with coffee straws, but that just adds character, don't you think?

What reminds you of His faithfulness when you feel like you have only one leaf left?