Wisdom From Hydrangeas
Hydrangeas are my favorite flower—I love the big glorious blooms. When we added the patio on the back of our house, I only had one request…hydrangeas. So the landscape specialist dug down deep into the hard rock soil and created beds for them. Rich soil was laid and small hydrangea bushes were planted on the lakeside of our newly laid patio.
I asked the landscaper if there were any special instructions for this type of flower. He gave me two things to remember: make sure they stay watered and cut them back every spring. “How much do I trim them?” I asked. He said, “Cut them back to about two feet high.” Low maintenance beauty. Perfect.
Hydrangeas are a midsummer bloomer. A late bloomer. I like that. I am, too. That first year the plants were beautiful. They were covered in large, white heads that gently aged to a celery green and eventually turned a caramel color by late fall. The leaves would fall during the autumn, but the blooms would stay all winter long. So even during the bleak gray of winter they stood tall with their regal heads held high.
When that first spring approached, I was apprehensive to chop these beauties back to two feet. They had reached well over five feet tall and I was afraid to cut them in half. Wouldn’t that kill them? I remembered the advice from the professional landscaper and followed his instructions.
I have to be honest. It was difficult to do. I felt like I was massacring my grand beauties. Surely they would not endure such harsh treatment. When I was done cutting them back, all the remnants of softness were gone. All that remained were five short shrubs of sticks. They looked pitiful. Perhaps I had gone too far and killed them. How would they ever come back after such a severe pruning?
Time Will Tell
So I waited: time would tell. I held onto what the landscaper had said and tried to believe I had done the right thing. That first spring was the longest. Every so often I would peer out of my upstairs window overlooking the patio and say a little prayer for my hydrangea bushes to pull through.
There was not much sign of growth for about a month or more after the pruning. Then, the butchered sticks started to send off new shoots, little bursts of bright green came out of the blunt gray wood. Spring was in full bloom everywhere else I looked with brilliant green grass. The trees were budding, and then blooming. Pops of color were all around. Yellows, pinks, purples. My hydrangea bushes did not keep up with the rest of nature bursting forth all around us. They looked more like mangled firewood at this point.
Spring gave way to summer and my hydrangeas were growing taller and sprouting leaves. No blooms yet, but I was glad to see that I had not completely annihilated these lovelies. When the 4th of July came and went, I started to panic because there were still no blooms. But, soon after that there appeared to be buds on the top of the tall stems. Finally on my birthday, in the third week of July, they had started to bloom. Relief and happiness bloomed in my heart at the sight of these long-awaited flowers.
White, fluffy, and gloriously grand, these beauties were taller than me. Reaching my hands toward the sky I could not even touch the heads of these towering flower heads. There were five bushes in a row against the back of our patio and they made a magnificent hedge of hydrangeas.
Every year, I go through the same hesitation to cut them back in the spring. For almost ten years now I’ve done it anyway, and every year they have gotten fuller and taller and more breathtaking than the year before.
Deep Pruning
Maybe you can relate to the severe trimming that my garden plants endured. It is possible that you also withstood a deep pruning in your life. Do you remember a time when there seemed to be more cut away than remained? Perhaps you have felt like a mangled pile of sticks and questioned your ability to ever spring back. Grief is like a deep pruning of the soul.
Be encouraged by my hardy hydrangeas. You will also come back stronger, more vibrant, and standing a little taller. Do not be discouraged by the other people you witness blooming around you. Grief is a late bloomer, but it will yield a glorious bouquet of beauty when it does.
Late Bloomer
God has not allowed you to be cut back more than you can withstand. Growth will happen, slowly but surely. Be patient with yourself. Keep reaching up toward heaven. Simultaneously dig down deep into the soil of your soul and find the strength you need hidden there. Learn from my hydrangeas: be encouraged by their beauty and resilience. You are more precious than these to your Creator.
The Master Gardener has His eyes on you and He will not allow this painful pruning to destroy you. Trust God to know how to help you grow. He will water your dry earth, shine on your tender growth, and help you to eventually stand tall and strong. You will bloom! It is what you are made to do!
