I found myself this morning peering intently at my beuganvillea. Or, to be more accurate, what is left of my beuganvillea.
When the freeze warnings were posted in January I dutifully covered this plant. More than dutifully actually as I love this 20 year old plant that was so large and full of blooms that it required three queen size sheets to shroud it.
Despite covering and keeping it protected through the four nights of temperatures well below freezing ~ an extremely unusual occurrence here in Scottsdale Arizona ~ the frost damage was extensive. So extensive that after pruning the deadwood what I was looking at early this morning was a trellis with some greyish stalks leaning into wood slats. If I needed to shroud it today a large pillow case rather than three queen size sheets would work perfectly.
Despite this new reality of a starkly pruned plant, what I was starring at this morning were the tiny promises of new life emerging on the thick old stalks ~ itty-bitty feathers of reddish leaves. As I looked more closely I saw near the bottom of the plant, green leaves emerging and slowly creeping their way up the stalks. Looking more closely a new wonder emerged; each leaf was a trinity of new life having a set of foundation leafing and within that a newer set of leaves and in that center, more budding life.
Awe filled my Spirit as the reality of life growing anew from the apparently dead stalks became evident. In time, the beuganvillea will again offer it's colorful beauty to life.
Important in the above are the words "in time.". Today I see emerging life: itty- bitty sprouts of new growth, yet it will take time - most likely a couple cyclings of all four seasons, before it is large and lush and bestowing on the yard it's full glory of fuscia collored blooms.
Writing this musing I am reminded how appreciation and enjoyment of living is dependent on my choice of how I see: do I focus on the starkness of the loss of old glory? Do I cling to my sense of failure of not being able to protect the once glorious plant? Do I allow loss of what gave me both pride and pleasure to become resentment or a jaded attitude of disappointment?
Even clinging to the misguided, though well-intended, 'seeing' of only the future lush blooms will become discouraging because that particular reality is way off in the future ~ a future that could include another devastating freeze before my ideas of full glory have had enough seasons to develop.
So, I wonder, what am I actually seeing today? I see holiness. Holiness evident as wholeness: tiny sprouts of life emerging from old grey stalks. I see the mystery of life proclaiming It's promise in the same manner we human beings are blessed with the fullness of living if we are but willing to let go of our human expectations, misperceptions and impatience.
I am reminded of the prophet Isaiah proclaiming "I am doing a new thing, do you not perceive it? And I am then reminded of the other prophet Ezekiel proclaiming God's promise "I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you: I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh."
My pruned beauganvillea reminds me that both prophesies are true when we are willing to be pruned ~ have the heart of stone removed ~ and when we are willing to receive a new way of seeing that perceives itty-bitty sprouting new life. And, probably most importantly, am I open to the holiness of the grace of life ~ the blessings ~ within today?
