Mother called late Thursday afternoon. “Julie, your brother (Jeremy) is making me a pansy garden. You’ve gotta see it. He bought special fertilizer, planted them in a big dirt mound, and covered them in mulch. He even pressure-washed my angel birdbath, and put out my ‘Trust in God’ sign.”
Friday, she met me at her carport door, sad-faced. “Early this morning, a neighbor saw a 10-point buck eating all my pansies!”
She showed me a picture. “I took this before everything was ruined. Jeremy built the wall by hand with a mallet and hammer. All that’s left now is his rock wall and my sign.”
“Can’t he replant your pansies?”
“Well, he could, but I’d have to stand guard and watch for the deer.”
“That’s a lot of work.”
“Yep. I thought about artificial pansies, but Gene (her husband) said no.”
Monday afternoon she called. “Jeremy’s replanting the whole thing. He’s spreading mothballs to repel the deer.”
“You don’t sound excited. Have you seen it?”
“No. I’m afraid to look. I feel so sorry for the pansies. I can’t stand it if they get eaten again.”
“They’re my favorite flower.”
“They’re so brave,” I said.
“They’re survivors. They make it through bitter cold winters.”
“Well, you can’t be afraid to look at them. Let me know when you gather your courage.”
Later that day, she called. “I haven’t looked yet, but I visualized each pansy and prayed over them.”
I could feel her peace through the phone.
“Okay, I’m walking to the window now. Oh, Julie. They’re gorgeous. He planted them not once, but twice, so I love them twice as much. I’ll let you know what happens, but I’m trusting God. I can’t live in fear. Not even about my pansies.”
“Wonderful! Now, send me a picture of you smiling.”
P.S. This week the “pansies” in my life are something I’ve been writing for a long time. Soon, I’m pressing send, trusting God, and letting go.
What are your “pansies” right now?
P.S.S. I just talked to Mother. So far, so good.