Transplanted

It was the English poet Dorothy Frances Gurney who wrote

The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth,
One is nearer God's Heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on earth.

This past week my wife and I gave attention to our backyard in preparation for winter. We cut back plants, trimmed bushes and filled large brown paper bags with leaves and brush. Our biggest task was to dig up a large bush and transplant it to the front of our house. I needed the space for a shed I am planning to build, and there was a bare spot at the front of the house occupied by an old, dead stump.
The bush had roots deep into soil. It did not want to let go easily of the place it had occupied for who knows how long. I had to use my pick and shovel to dig a deep, wide trench all around it. Every ten minutes I tugged on it to see if there was any movement. After more than an hour, it reluctantly let go and bowed to my wishes.
Then I had to prepare the new location. More digging. Another half hour with the pick and shovel. Then came the actual move. I hauled the bush around to the front of the house and placed it in its new home. After filling in the soil around it I gave it a good watering. The next day it looked as if it had always been there.
I thought of all the moves my wife and I made during our 40 years of ministry. The decisions to move were never ours. Sometimes we moved with great reluctance. Sometimes with eagernes. But always with a sense of trepidation as we wondered what lay ahead. But like our transplanted bush, it was never long before we felt as if we were always there and that it was the place where God wanted us to be.
Now in retirement our latest move has been our own choise...or was it? I like to think that God had His hand in our decision making, especially because we made it a matter of prayer. Our challenge now is to "bloom where we're transplanted."