Waiting for the Hydrangeas

We drove through the dark, rainy night, peering at houses on an unfamiliar road, squinting into the inky night, searching for a specific house number. Life can look different than it does in photos, because of perspective. Things also look VERY different night to day, as well as from familiar to new and unknown. We peered out our car windows again, tipped off to our destination by glowing red taillights just a driveway ahead of us. I glanced at my husband, noticing his jaw muscles twitching with both excitement and anxious energy. He found the house number, then slowly turned into the driveway and parked to the left of another car.

We were not in a desperate situation, we didn’t NEED to be looking for a new home, thankfully. Instead, we’d begun to understand that it was time to move our 5 person family into a new space with more square footage. We’d been casually looking at Zillow and somehow had each stumbled on this listing. We had a trip out of town the next day and were afraid we’d miss an opportunity to at least see it if we didn’t look at it before we left.

It was very early November…rain and leaves the regular in our corner of Michigan. But this night, was also the beginning of a dream and seeing God at work in, before and behind our family. Just months before, my talented husband had started a new job. While we both stumbled on this house, husband did a bit of research and found that this house was owned by his boss! No coincidences, right?

After a few conversations and our fall schedule dictating our availability to go see it, we knew that there was an open house planned while we were gone for the weekend. Which meant, our relator’s team went the extra mile to meet us on a windy, soggy and hopeful Wednesday night.

I am a bit ashamed to say that I don’t remember name of the realtor who met us there (not our dear Heather, but a colleague).I don’t remember much on the outside of the house from that visit…other than the mounds of soggy leaves that were piled in the driveway, clinging to our shoes. Other than that, not so much of the exterior of the house we now have loved into being home.

I can still still remember every inch of the interior, the way our house greets me still, every time I re-enter her doors and sacred space for our family. I remember how she instantly felt warm, even on that random, soggy November evening. I remember trying to keep my hopes tempered as we walked, room to room. I couldn’t stop smiling, imagining our sweet kids in each bedroom and the life we could possibly have here…

God is so good…we HAVE been here for 6 years and every single day, I am grateful. A million memories, a million to go.

I know, you are wondering what in the world this has to do with hydrangeas? I wrote a few posts ago how I love hearing a good backstory, perhaps you remember? Well, for me, giving the backstory feels important too. To share with you the love and blessing of our home only makes understanding the rest of the story a bit easier, I hope…

As we became owners of our home, we began to take a closer look around and finally could see the exterior. I remember walking around our yard in the light of day, enjoying the landscaping the previous owners had arranged. Just to the left of our garage was a group of green bushes, even in November.

Here is the disclaimer…husband and I are not experts at gardening or curating landscapes. I think those who do this well are truly artists! I was thankful that we inherited the effort and blessing from the previous owners and had no idea how to care for such artistry. Thankfully also, we have family members on both sides of our families who have natural skill for such things. Because it was November, we didn’t need to begin learning about caring for the landscaping until the Spring.

Spring and Summer revealed those bushes to be lush and vibrant, green leaves and small white buds that didn’t bloom for our two summers here. We were told they were hydrangeas, a flower I’ve always loved. I was thrilled, waited to see the intricate umbrella shaped clusters that were described on one gardening website as, imbuing a light and airy presence that evokes the essence of carefree summer days. 

Yet, after two summers, we concluded they must need to be pruned, like many other plants and bushes, following a summer season. We don’t know what we don’t know…. we cut them down until they looked like small bamboo shoots, whiskers shooting up from the wood chips in the front beds just off the lawn.

Then, we waited…for 3 summers…

We watered them, fertilized them and waited. I hoped to see the beautiful flowering bulbs that friends had in their landscaping but truly, we saw just enough new growth in the form of tiny leaves that all we knew is that we hadn’t killed them completely. That was both good and we were baffled where the flowers were.

The following spring, we found ourselves wandering through a nursery, looking at other bushes and flowers to add to the yard. We came upon some stunning hydrangea’s growing in the cozy greenhouse. The wizard of a landscaper we were talking to had a beautiful British accent and scads of knowledge. He was a delight! He explained how, though we had had the best intentions, we had essentially cut off the new growth on our hydrangeas at home and would now have to just wait until they grew up again. I was immediately reminded of the short haircut I had to have just before my freshman year in high school, which I immediately regretted, then had to wait many years until it grew out to any length again. Torture!

Then, as we continued to wander, I began to think about intentions. How many times have I in my life, thought I was doing the best thing, only to find out I was actually making something WORSE?

I had a high school friend who for whatever reason, stopped talking to me. I tried EVERYTHING to right our relationship, over-explaining, over-apologizing, over-blaming and over-everything out of my own fear and insecurity. I was trying so hard to “fix something,” that I was in reality, probably pushing her further away. When I was able to accept her choice, turn to other outlets and friends and help myself regulate, I was in a much better spot.

Somehow, she and I reconnected and the craziest part? As hard as it was when she shut the door, I can’t remember HOW or WHO opened it again. I mostly remember the devastating rejection, my own neediness and vaguely, that I ended high school with a sleepover at her house like nothing had ever happened.

The things that so often feel SO big, heartbreaking, often are and they are not. How often do we continue watering, talking, feeding something that we could let go, let wither or let change? A job, a friendship, a commitment, a habit or even routine, because these are things we just do? And on the flip side, how often do we end something in our lives because it is too difficult, takes to long, we lose interest or we are scared to do the hard work to see it through?

I have a client who has been working for a long time on processing past trauma and relationship difficulties. They have been processing so much pain and experienced tremendous growth. But it was recently, that they had their own “hydrangea moment:” “I realized that if my relationships are going to change, I have to quit trying the same things, acting the same way, even to myself.” They described, “I want a healthy relationship, so I am going to approach it differently, including how I am to and about myself.” The pride and confidence appeared like sun on new growth! When I described this hydrangea analogy, my brave client could not stop smiling.

“I was just thinking how I felt so gross for so long and then I imagined a huge bright pink hydrangea bush! It feels good to change things that you don’t even realize are holding you back so much.”

I have used this and similar analogies many times in my career. I know even for myself, there are many times that my habits, reactions or patterns can feel like “nothing is changing!” But if can be honest and kind to myself, sometimes that is absolutely because, I am hanging on to something that it is time to let go of or cutting off something (perhaps giving up on something) before I have seen its growth, unintentionally or intentionally.

It is so hard to let something go, if is something we’re used to, something or someone we love, a coping pattern that has in reality outlived it’s usefulness or perhaps a relationship that has shifted that we weren’t ready to. It can be hard to stick with something that is slow – moving or seems to be bearing no fruit at all.

The brave middle is knowing when you have tried hard enough and when the trying is still worthwhile, even when it is slow, painful or feels non-existent. When to offer grace and when to establish boundaries. When to see growth as care and when to rest. Or, when to push a little further and when to say, “I’ve done all I can.”

This past summer, our hydrangeas bloomed! Pink, purple and blue flowers on just a few of the once shorn branches. I can honestly say that after 6 years of living here, those few flowering bulbs were SO worth the wait. That’s a bit like therapy, I think. Intense pain in the cleaning and changing, a two-steps forward, one back approach and slow cautious care.

I am so thankful to witness the profound growth that I do with each client, each hour. Sometimes, it is evident and profound, other hours, clients say the growth is slow and steady and still others feel like there is none, even as God himself is quietly and relentlessly working behind the scenes. I am astonished by the bravery, honesty and trust that are entrusted to me. Always, I am humbled in the ways God heals: hydrangeas and hearts.