house plant – Rejoicing Hills

Outside, on this sub-zero February day, a bitter wind is kicking billows of icy particles high into the sky and blasting them across the fields. The snow is nearly up to the windowsills, and the icicles hang like a row of jagged teeth from the eaves. It’s about as un-tropical a day as you could get this far from a Pole—but the fragrance that meets me when I walk out into the sun porch is straight from Florida.

For a minute, I’m disoriented and puzzled. It’s the scent of spring and the promise of fruit, a distinct and heady fragrance. It doesn’t match the snowy landscape outside my windows. And then I see the orange tree. I hadn’t even noticed the buds coming on over the last few days, but they’ve burst open and there’s no ignoring them now. There, right up against the pane of mere glass separating it from the depths of winter, it’s breaking it’s own record for number of exquisite waxy white blossoms. IMG_9692 edit.jpg IMG_9703 edit.jpg I’ve owned the tree for several years, but in the past I’ve always moved it into our warmer living room area during the colder months, to avoid it taking a chill. It seemed a considerate course of action for a plant of tropical origin. Oddly though, the well-intentioned move always seemed to make it droop, and, well, frankly it’s just grown so big lately that it’s heavy and awkward. So I finally decided to take a risk, try leaving it, and see what happened.

Turns out, the extra sunshine the porch affords makes up for what it lacks in warmth, at least in this little tree’s estimation. Or maybe it actually prefers a little chill, just like some of our neighbors who have voluntarily transplanted from the sunny south to the frozen north without regret. At any rate, to my surprise, and in spite of regular icy drafts from the nearby exterior door opening and shutting multiple times a day as little people run in and out from playing in the snow, it has not only survived, but is actually thriving!

If I doubted it before, I could not possibly now. It’s blossomed here and there in the past, but never like this. The fragrance filling the room and wafting into the next is only eclipsed by the sight of it. The beauty, seen and unseen, is breathtaking. IMG_3934 edit.jpg It’s actually a pretty magnificent picture of what we Christ-followers are supposed to look, and (frankly!) smell like.

No, this isn’t an ad for orange blossom perfume.

It’s like this:

If Christ is present in your life, it’s a perfume you wear. It’s breathtaking beauty springing forth in the life-giving light of the Son, a secret you couldn’t keep if you tried. And to those around you, it’s like that sweet tropical fragrance that pervaded my senses before I could even identify it’s source. The flowers couldn’t contain it. The scent was pouring out, wafting, filling the air with abandon, a gift to my senses, an irresistible invitation to discover the source of such sweetness.

Ironically, just like my orange tree, the scent of Christ is undeterred in the face of iciest drafts and darkest wintery days of life, and actually? It’s more distinct than ever:

When someone cuts you off in line, and you respond with kindness.

When you refuse to take an opportunity to speak ill of someone who has publicly wronged you.

When you respond to life’s frustrations with grace instead of impatience.

When you can grieve a loved one without losing hope.

When you forgive freely instead of holding a grudge…

…and the list goes on.

These aren’t things you can fake, like some science lab concocting chemical compounds to artificially fool people’s senses. These aren’t things you can slap on, any more than you can get away with hanging an air freshener in your car expecting it to supersede the odor of spilled milk on a hot summer day. You might be able to get away with artificial, spritzed-on fragrance for a little while, but not for long. People know when it’s the real deal, because when these things are genuine, they exude from deep within, the exclusive, unique overflow of the abundance of His presence in our hearts, an irresistible invitation to the world around you to discover the source of such sweetness.

So, not to be rude—how are you smelling today?

“But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere. For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing…” (1 Corinthians 2:14-15)

This is oxalis triangularis, otherwise known as purple shamrock. It sits in my south window in the perfect spot to catch the full sun, positioned right where I can enjoy it whenever I’m sitting in my favorite chair nursing the wee babe, or less frequently, as I am this week, convalescing from illness. I especially love the way the sunlight glows through the translucent lavender petals and maroon leaves, and the way those tri-lobed leaves go to bed every night when the sun goes down, folding up neatly into little origami points.

It’s my very favorite houseplant—but nice as all these things are, it might surprise you to know that it’s really an entirely different quality than these that elevated it to the top of the list.

What this photo doesn’t tell you is that last week, this favorite plant of mine had an accident. We won’t name any names, but lets just say that having houseplants in the same house as toddlers is a rather optimistic idea. Also, this is why I don’t (or shouldn’t) ever buy expensive flower pots. Furthermore, it’s the third accident it’s had of this sort, not to mention multiple other instances of small hands plucking off way too many leaves and stems, because apparently I’m not the only one who thinks it’s pretty.

It’s not what I would call a sturdy plant by looking at it. The leaves are tender and the stems easily broken, and every accident has literally crushed it. Every time I’ve tucked it into a new pot when the former has been broken, or given it an extra drink after an inopportune childish pruning, I’ve thought that surely this was it. Surely, the oxalis was going to succumb to adversity this time around. I’ve had other houseplants that have given up the ghost under far less trying circumstances.

And, for a few days, it generally supports my fear. All the remaining foliage dies. By all appearances, it is time to dump the pot and move on with life. But, always, just when I’ve given up on it, the coil of a tiny translucent shoot appears, tipped in the deep purple of the tiniest of exquisite new leaves—and the oxalis lives on yet again.

This seemed quite miraculous to me until I learned that the key to the strength of the oxalis is not in it’s stems, leaves or flowers, or even it’s roots. It’s strength is actually in tiny tuberous bulbs, which are the true, hidden heart of the plant.

This then is the quality that has elevated this little houseplant to the top of my list of favorites. A gorgeous little plant that obligingly flowers year round and can bounce back after any manner of toddler encounters? This may very well be perfection in a pot.

There are quite a few lessons here, but perhaps the most important is that a person’s ability to handle hard times with resilience stems directly from where they are drawing their strength in all of the other times. And the people who I have watched face trying times, who get back up time after time, with wounded souls shining strong, beautiful and tender yet again, always have one thing in common: their day-to-day lives have been centered in Christ. There’s a difference, you see, between rising from adversity with a shell of hardened bitterness or cynicism, and that of rising from adversity with a renewed growth in faith, gentleness and hope. Only a heart deeply rooted in Jesus can do that.

“Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.” (John 15:4-5)

“He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength.” (Isaiah 40:29)

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13)

“My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.” (Psalm 121:2)

To view a fun time lapse video of oxalis leaves “going to sleep”, go here.

Tag: house plant

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