What I learned About Adversity From a Dying Plant

Honestly, I do not have the proverbial green thumb. My success rate with any type of plant is about 50%. Yet I persist in surrounding myself with a variety of herbage. I’ve attempted to learn everything I could about plants, but nothing compared to the lesson one plant taught me. What I learned about adversity from a dying plant changed the way I looked at life itself.

The cleaning lady at my office is no longer horrified by the sheer number of plant casualties found in my trash can in any given month. But she is mystified by my compulsion to continue to buy replacement plants. In her estimation I am a menace to the plant world. Actually, it’s really not all that bad, but it did cause me to examine my methods. And in so doing, what I learned about adversity from a dying plant was a lesson in perseverance.

“Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are.” ~Arthur Golden

Adversity Arrives

This unusual plant came into my life during a time of adversity. A few dear colleagues gave me a beautiful dish plant garden when my precious granddaughter, Indigo Evangeline was stillborn on January 11, 2016. I kept the plant in my office as a reminder of their love and support for me. It was one of those gardens that had three plants; a Boston Fern, an African Violet and a Peace Lily. For anyone who knows anything about plants, these are all lovely plants, but never meant to share a home with one another.

Amazingly enough all was well for four years! Then things started to deteriorate. I knew I had to separate the plants into individual pots or lose all three. I continued to put this off because that was the exact point I failed with all of my other plants. They never made it through the re-potting process. I just couldn’t lose these plants; the symbolism of the occasion meant too much to me. Finally I worked up enough courage to bring the plant garden home and see what I could do.

Caring for a dying plant

After re-potting all three plants, I took two of them back to my office. The Boston Fern initially looked a bit unhappy, but immediately perked up after about a week and has since tripled in size. The Peace Lily initially looked great, but within two or three days began to go downhill fast. Almost every leaf turned brown or had brown spots. It looked wilted and despite everything I tried, seemed destined for demise. Little did I know, what I learned about adversity from a dying plant would speak loudest at the darkest time.

Everyone that saw it, asked why I didn’t just give up and get rid of it, but somehow I held out hope that it would turn the corner. I softened the soil, was very careful about the amount of water I gave it and positioned it to get the best light. Reading that plants in this condition would benefit from removing the brown leaves, I did so with much trepidation. Since it seemed there were very few good leaves, I left a few brown ones fearing it would stress the plant too much to remove them all. Over the course of several months this plant underwent a complete transformation.

The view from a broken heart

Much like my Peace Lily, forces outside my control stepped into my world and forever altered the landscape. We’ve all traveled the adversity road, and this wasn’t my first trip, but it was the first time I realized its benefits. Sometimes we receive a warning that a rough road is ahead. But in this case similar to my Peace Lily, I had no warning that things were about to drastically change.

Truly, I was unprepared to face the unexpected death of my first granddaughter. Holding her lifeless body, unable to look into her beautiful eyes, or hear her laugh, a life that would never be, flashed before my own eyes. As anyone who has ever lost a child knows, you not only lose their presence, their “body”; you lose every future event. NO birthdays, special occasions, “first” steps, smiles, words, every hope and dream you imagined with that child is gone. Could anyone else hear the the fracture that pierced my heart?

two journeys through adversity

As I observe my Peace Lily now, I’m amazed at its health and beauty. A colleague commented the other day at how many flowers it had and how unusual that it bloomed at this particular time. They said it must be a very special plant; indeed I agree. Apparently Peace Lilies are unusual in the fact that they can look completely dead, but the root system is still “alive” and can be propagated. I read that little tidbit of information early in my journey and it gave me courage to not give up hope.

I love a good object lesson, don’t you? That’s really what I’m sharing with you today; parallels taken from two journeys through adversity. Of course at the time, I had no idea what I was learning, it wasn’t until my colleague made that comment that I started pondering what took place. As I mentioned before, God often reveals Himself to us through creation. He uses the pictures we can see to teach us truths that may be difficult for us to grasp.

“Every adversity, every failure, every heartache carries with it the seed of an equal or greater benefit.” ~Napoleon Hill

what i learned about adversity from a dying plant

The following truths are a few of the parallels I found in my musings about what I learned about adversity from a dying plant. Although most are simplistic, they have a profound impact when you take a few moments to consider them in light of your own adversity.

Advent of Adversity

• Adversity can be unexpected. Neither the Peace Lily nor I expected the adversity we faced. Additionally, adversity is not subject to our control. The Peace Lily had no say in the if/how/when of re-potting. I had no say in the type of adversity presented to me, or whether I wanted to experience this particular tragedy.
• Adversity makes us uncomfortable. Though the Peace Lily had grown crowded with the other plants, “uprooting” it to a completely different place was uncomfortable. My life was far from a bed of roses, but still, there was a level of comfort, familiarity. The death of my granddaughter brought pain, confusion.
• Adversity brings change. Once the Peace Lily was uprooted and re-potted, the “old life” was gone; things had changed. Death always changes a life; you can never go back to the “way it was”. You must start anew from where you are.

Impact of Adversity

• Adversity may bring suffering. For the Peace Lily, the process of re-potting resulted in the loss of vitality and many leaves. I experienced not only the loss of my precious granddaughter, but the loss of an expected future, current joy, and my own vibrancy for life.
• Adversity brings stress. Clearly, the Peace Lily became stressed by the re-potting and its new reality. The same was true for me. I suffered through my grief and accepting my new reality.
• Adversity leaves scars. Just like my Peace Lily still to this day has leaves scarred by brown spots, I carry the scars of adversity. Not just the adversity of losing my granddaughter, but every adversity I travel through leaves me with the reminders of the arduous journeys.

TLC Required in Adversity

• Adversity requires compassion. My Peace Lily required more than the cursory care of every day houseplants. It required the intentional attention to small details to nourish and strengthen it in time of weakness. I needed to offer myself compassion, paying special attention to self care.
• Adversity requires daily diligence. Instead of a casual mentality towards routine care of my Peace Lily, I needed to be especially diligent to care for it daily. Likewise, it was super important for me to maintain my daily routines of meditation, mindfulness and Bible reading to keep myself centered and grounded.
• Adversity requires a support system. Obviously my Peace Lily could not care for itself and required my help! What I often forget is the importance of a support system when facing adversity. Just like the Peace Lily, sometimes I can’t do everything alone.

The Accomplishment of Adversity

While we may fear or attempt to avoid adversity, it’s not all bad. In fact, the benefits far outweigh the burden. Though my Peace Lily suffered severe stress from the adversity of re-potting, it sits a remarkable plant today. Its health, beauty and vibrancy speak of strength and robust survival, while its scars remind onlookers the journey was painful.

I, too, sit a remarkable testimony to survival. Stronger, in a sense yes; but also softer, more compassionate, retrospective. The scars of adversity speak of hardship, brokenness, pain. But they also demonstrate courage, perseverance and healing. What I learned about adversity from a dying plant was that while adversity brings hardship and change, it also brings new life. Adversity forces us to move from a place of stagnation to a place of personal growth. The symbolism that it was the Peace Lily that taught me this lesson is not lost on me. Truly God showed me the way to peace in adversity was through acceptance and trust in His perfect plan.

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Feature Image Photo by Daniel Tseng on Unsplash