Just Add Water

Our girls are adventurous little ones.  They are always trekking across our property with sticks in-tow, eager to poke at and dig into the environment in exploration of God’s bountiful masterpiece.  One curly-haired three-year-old I know becomes one with the earth, returning inside with dirt smeared across her chubby cheeks and packed under her fingernails.  They frolic and giggle and explore and imagine.  They can spend hours outside without arguing (mostly), asking to watch the television, or raiding our pantry of snacks.  They return indoors with depleted energy and rejuvenated spirits, all while developing a better understanding of nature and its characteristics and purpose.

One evening, following a day of exploration, the three big sisters traipsed back inside the house with sweaty hair sticking to their foreheads, dirt trapped inside their socks, and a plucked weed tightly nestled in their grasp.  They know their daddy’s distaste for weeds, but that is not why they pulled it.  The chosen weed was unearthed because they simply wanted to bring inside a lovely piece of nature.  I overheard a conversation between our oldest two about the weed’s chance of surviving inside our house.  Big sister explained that the weed’s abrupt extraction from the life-giving soil would result in its quick expiration.  Little sister refused to accept such a hopeless fate and suggested, “Just add water!”

Our five-year-old’s confident declaration reminded me of a woman who used to be so faith-filled and confident herself.  A woman who believed that just adding water was enough sustenance to revive even the driest of weeds.  A woman who saw the beauty and purpose in something wilting.  A woman who believed that a season of wilting was an integral step of regrowth.  Why is it that my five-year-old’s faith can sometimes be bigger than her mama’s?  When did I stop believing that our sea-parting and humanity-saving Father could also bring back to life the driest of spirits?  That even a wilting weed can be valued and chosen?

My daughter was certain that just adding water would sustain the weed, not because she understands science but because she understands faith.  She believes that praying for her sister’s scraped knee will render quicker healing and that praying for her family’s safety in the car will keep us protected on the road.  She believes without doubt and without hesitance.  Her faith is big and it comes so easily.  My sweet girl helps me realize how much I complicate my faith and how often I question my Father’s presence in the difficult seasons of my life.  How I doubt His power to revive the wilting spirit in me.

My daughter chose the weed because she saw its beauty and its value.  To her, it was a sign of life in the otherwise weed-barren yard.  She refused to believe the weed was an imposter and instead considered it an intentional piece of the landscape; its placement was purposeful and appealing to her little five-year-old self.  Everyone else may have overlooked the weed or even plucked it for disposal, but my girl saw its life, its value, and its beauty.

We can oftentimes feel unworthy of being chosen; unworthy of being rescued from our circumstances; unworthy of the Lord’s attention and care.  We may even see ourselves as imposters or feel overlooked amongst a thousand others like us, but He never loses sight of us.  He values us and sees the beauty in our wilting.  He knows that a wilting spirit is not valid cause for disposal, but reason for special care.  Our Father sees us like my daughter saw her chosen weed—beautiful and valued.  Maybe just adding water is not enough to restore us, but He is always enough to sustain us.

“…for he satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things.” - Psalm 107:9 (NIV)