The grass withers; the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.
-Isaiah 40:8

I was grown in a greenhouse.

I had two loving parents, a solid up-bringing. I learned right from wrong and how to make good decisions.

I learned that the world was a beautiful place, filled with beautiful people. Yes, bad things could happen, but I was generally safe and sound in my sheltered, climate-controlled existence.

And for the most part, nothing bad ever happened to me.

Until college. In college the outside world began to intrude into my greenhouse. I discovered I wasn’t prepared to face the heat.

I was exposed to the elements of hatred, fear, war, and suffering. My gardener parents couldn’t protect me from disease, predators, and sometimes, myself.

There’s an infrequently used term for people like me: Hothouse flowers. We are the ones who group up sheltered, but not properly equipped to handle the brutal world outside our cocoon.

I’ve been struggling against this harsh world ever since. And lately, I fear the intensity and danger will simply blow me away.

I certainly don’t begrudge my family for their love and care, but it’s taken me decades to build up a little resistance to all the threats around me.

Actually, you don’t have to have grown up in a hothouse to feel this way. I know many, many people, from all sorts of backgrounds, who are struggling against what seems like a tsunami of injustice, a drought of compassion.

Maybe you, like me, need a few reminders:

• I must remind myself of the Good Soil I have been planted (and replanted) in. I was guided to put down roots of Love that have been imprinted in my heart for all time.
  
• I must continue receiving the nourishment of the Spirit that falls like Living Water and helps me flourish.
  
• I must open myself to the Light of the World that shines–not to burn me, but to embolden me.

More than that, I must heed the call to spread and bear fruit.

Being a Hothouse Flower hasn’t always been easy, but like any flower, I have the potential to add beauty and fragrance wherever I am.

It’s more of a challenge these days, but I am not to be sequestered behind glass any longer. I am meant to flourish, out here in the wild world.

Exposed, weathered…

but still standing.

Have a great week,

Mitch