Growing Grass

Last year, in the spring, we moved into a new home. Our new yard was much smaller than our previous one, but it was filled with lush, green sod. Initially, our focus was on the interior of the house. We had boxes to unpack and spaces to organize. Our lovely lawn was neglected. Soon, that beautiful green grass turned into a sad shade of brown. Seeing that our grass was nearing death, we purchased a sprinkler and began to water. Every day we drenched our thirsty yard, and gradually we witnessed it turning green again. 

It was gorgeous. 

I took every chance I could get to gaze admiringly at our yard through the window. My husband added fertilizer, and the hues of green were deeper and richer than I had ever seen before.

One day, my next-door neighbor asked me how we had revived our grass. She had noticed it was parched only weeks before and now saw that it was thriving. "We've been fertilizing it," I replied proudly. I had been embarrassed about our previously dying lawn, but her question confirmed what I already suspected: We were now the grass-envy of the block. 

Only days after the conversation with my neighbor, I noticed that our grass was starting to look oddly shriveled and brown. We were still watering it, but something was wrong. I asked my husband about it, and he admitted that we may have gone overboard with the fertilizer. It was working so well, and we thought it could only keep getting better if we kept applying it. As the grass continued to take a major turn for the worse, my pride took a nosedive. What would my neighbor think now? 

As we entered fall and winter months, our lawn morphed into a slimy, moist, grayish texture and color. Eventually, our HOA took notice, and we received a letter warning us that the condition of our yard was not up to code. My husband spent a Saturday digging up the front lawn and laying new sod. Because the back yard was larger and more hidden, we decided to wait and plant seed in the spring.

I spent the rest of the winter looking at our dreadful backyard and regretting the way we had treated it. I couldn't help but see some metaphors in this experience. One of the analogies I considered was that our enthusiasm to fertilize the grass was like the overeagerness I sometimes struggle with in relationships.

Let me explain. 

I have anxiety in relationships. I sometimes feel a nagging fear of abandonment. Because I'm afraid, I cling to certain people too tightly. It is my attempt to control the anxiety, but the unfortunate reality is that people don't usually want a grown woman clinging to them. It generally has the opposite effect. When I hold onto someone too tightly out of fear of losing them, I actually end up pushing them away. I lose them. The very outcome I fight desperately to avoid is caused directly by that effort.

As my grass died, I was living a parallel experience in a dying relationship. This person's presence in my life meant the world to me, but I couldn't stop throwing fertilizer at it. It was good, but I wanted more--more closeness, more attention, more connection. The green wasn't green enough for me. I felt if I could just feed it more, I could be sure that I would never lose it, but that's not what happened.

I poisoned it.

This relationship shriveled and died just like my grass.

The death of my lawn was a hit to my pride, but losing this person from my life was extremely humbling. It hurt more than most anything I have ever experienced. Knowing that I ruined a valuable relationship was the most painful part. My heart was broken.

The good thing about a broken heart is that it is a precursor to profound willingness. Bruce D. Porter said, "those who have a broken heart and a contrite spirit are willing to do anything and everything that God asks of them, without resistance or resentment." 

I was finally ready to let go of my desperate attempts to control my relationships and let God help. I started trusting Him. 

When spring finally came, we were more than ready to prepare the ground in our backyard and spread the grass seed. This time, we were determined to take good care of it. We gave our lawn all the attention it needed, and we were careful not to do anything that would harm or overwhelm it. In the early days after planting, we weren't sure if anything was happening, but sure enough, little green sprouts started to pop up. Throughout the summer, we witnessed our yard transform from brown to beautiful green again. Sometimes we felt impatient and considered helping the growth by adding m

ore fertilizer, but we reminded ourselves of past mistakes and trusted the process.

The relationship I lost is still gone, but the green grass in my backyard reminds me that I can do better in future relationships. I will have more opportunities to practice giving my anxiety to God and trusting Him to help me cultivate beautiful connections with others. I'm learning to let go.

A Broken Heart and a Contrite Spirit by Bruce D. Porter