The rain fell long and hard the other night.
I had given up on my poor wilted, dying basil plant. “I can’t grow anything!” I said to my husband. “I am never going to be able to have children if I can’t even keep a plant alive! I’ll probably be one of those mothers who leaves their kids in the car just for a second and gets caught up in a discussion about Friday Night Lights for two hours and forgets they’re out there!”
I am nothing if not even-keeled. So much for permission to fail.
“Plants don’t cry if you don’t feed them,” Josh said evenly. Point taken.
The rain kept falling outside, a spring thunderstorm in Durham. The next morning, as I walked to the car, I looked at the plant. It was healthy again, the leaves strong and firm. All it needed was a good soaking.
“I had been watering it,” I said. “I just heard that you can kill a plant by overwatering it, so I was being careful.”
Josh smiled sweetly. “Overwatering hasn’t really been the problem in the past.” Point taken again.
Sometimes you give up, decide it’s over, throw in the towel, say, “permission to fail,” and let it die.
And sometimes, despite your finest efforts at defeat, God just sabotages them with victory.