“Mama, what are you doing?!” My big three stood there, mouths open, shocked by the catastrophic state of the front yard and of their mother. I was covered with a light film of dirt with mud smears over my arms and legs. 

“I am getting rid of this gigantic bush!” I heaved as I tugged at a root that seemed to have no end. I pulled and pulled, the root stretched the entire width of the front yard.

“Wow!” Paisley exclaimed! 

“Anyone want to help?” I asked. 

“Sure!!” Paisley exclaimed. She loves any excuse to get in the dirt. 

“Yeah,” the boys agreed.

This plant had been bothering me for two years. We thought it may be a bush but the yard had not been taken care of in a decade when we purchased our home. Friends and family had helped clear out  all kinds of plants to help bring order to our little city yard. But we had left the bush untouched. It was a six feet tall and twelve feet long mess of brambles with a thin layer of leaves on top. 

I had taken some clippers to it a few times but nothing seemed to help. It was sad and sparse. I kept hoping it would spring back to life, fill in and fill out. But it just kept looking like the life was slowly fading out of it.

One day I was sitting on my porch reading. Matt was at a meeting, Finley was resting and the big three were reading. I glanced up from my page and thought to myself, “its time. That bush has got to go.” 

I put my book down, took a quick drink of water, and thought I should change into work clothes. Then I decided not to knowing I had to seize the moment. 

I grabbed the clippers and shovel that were under the porch and stood with both tools in my hands eyeing my challenge. 

“I’ll try trimming it back one more time. “ I thought to myself. Little by little I clipped branches off. The more I trimmed back the more dead, tangled branches I could see underneath. 

I smiled slightly. I felt like this plant was a physical representation of me, looking a little messy on the outside and all tangled on the inside. In that moment I felt God draw close and whisper in my mind. “I am doing something new. This will be painful but life will come from the pain.’ I choked back sudden tears and got to work. 

As I pulled out those long, yard length roots, I felt again God’s gracious illustration of this being like a picture of my heart-unhealthy ways of coping being uprooted. I knew this visual would stay with me for a long time and I was grateful.

“ Grab some yard bags and the extra shovel.” I instructed the kids.

“Woohoo!” Paisley erupted!

With a sly grin on his face, Macrae pulled out a line from the LEGO movie. “Get me some Construction paper! And some crayons and GLITTER GLUE!” 

We laughed at his timely randomness and started filling up yard bags with all the debris I had created. 

We filled up 8 yard bags that day. 

Matt came home from his meeting as we were about done. 

“What have you done?” He asked amazed

“Got rid of that crazy bush.” I said

“Wow! Good job.”

It was getting dark by the time we all finished up carting the yard bags to the ally. They were so heavy, full of death and debris.

The next day I pulled up to our home. It was the first time I felt like I could truly see our home. The front of the house was always taken up in my mind by the giant death bush. As I looked at our miracle city home, I was overwhelmed with gratitude once again for this special place. A home we never thought we would have, a home mostly provided by the generosity of others. A home where we could add elevators and ramps and handicapped bathrooms without needing the approval of a condo association. A home in the city where our kids had a yard to run and play and be crazy. Never did we dare think we could have a house in Chicago. We had prepared our hearts for city apartment living long ago despite the desire for a big family and despite having a child with special needs. But God, in his gracious generosity, provided a house for the price we planned on spending on a condo. I had already been amazed, I had always been undone by the sheer extravagance of God, but that day, in that moment, after the giant, scraggly landscaping had been removed, I took in this gift in a new way, a deeper way. 

I felt God draw close, his gracious presence with me in our eighteen year old van. I felt these words in my heart. “You were focused on the landscaping. It was never about the landscaping. It is always about the Home I am building.” Tears again. I had so identified with that crazy, dying plant. Knowing it represented how God was (and is) in the process of uprooting things in my heart. But where I can get so down on myself, I can judge myself so harshly, God does not. He is working on me but ultimately he is doing bigger and greater things than I could ever imagaine. He is building a home. He is making a way. He “hems me in on every side, behind and before.” (Psalm 139:5) I can trust that his goodness and glory is and forever will be my ultimate home.