Once there was a lovely little lilac bush growing in a garden centre. She was selected with care and great delight, and taken to a home where she was planted in the front yard. She thrived in the sunny spot which offered gentle warmth in the morning, and bright sunshine in the afternoon. She was so happy in that perfect place that she greeted each spring with huge, fragrant purple blooms.
And because the place was so perfect for her, she grew. Her limbs grew taller. She sprouted more branches around her base, widening her offering of beauty.
Sadly, the people who had selected her with such enthusiasm didn’t realize she would grow. The day came when she was declared “too big” and chopped out of her perfect growing spot, her carcass tossed on the curb for the garbage truck to collect.
Her next door neighbour saw her lying there, and with great gentleness carried her to a different location. She dug a deep hole, and mixing tears with soil, carefully replanted the lilac’s roots. Gentle fertilizer was offered, and daily watering.
It was a difficult season. The lilac wasn’t sure she wanted to try again. But the gardener wouldn’t let her give up. Every day the gardener told her how much she was loved. “It would be lovely if some day you bloomed again,” the gardener would say, “but if you don’t want to, that’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here.”
So the lilac tried. She soaked up moisture through her roots, and let the healing warmth of sunshine penetrate her naked branches. Fall came, followed by winter.
When spring showed up again, she felt the movement of life force once more. Buds emerged on her branches. When the gardener noticed, she laughed with delight. “Good job, brave one. I’m so glad you’re still alive.”
The seasons continued to cycle. Her branches grew in summer. Her leaves fell in autumn. She slept in winter, and let spring’s warmth entice her leaves to emerge. Every spring, the gardener softly reminded her, “It would be so lovely to see your flowers again. But if you don’t want to, that’s okay. I love you just the way you are.”
Beside the lilac bush was an extroverted willow tree. It had started as a branch placed in the soil as an experiment, and it had joyfully rooted itself. The further it spread, the more crowded the lilac felt until in its third spring in the new location, some of its branches didn’t bud at all.
“I’m sorry, little lilac,” the gardener murmured. “I didn’t realize you would be so overshadowed here.” She pushed a shovel into the ground near the lilac. “I am so sorry to have to do this to you one more time. You’ve already been through so much. But I’m moving you to a spot where you will have all the room you need. I promise you won’t be moved again.”
The lilac didn’t enjoy having her roots exposed to light again, but she felt the gardener’s care even in the difficulty. She had survived once before. She decided she would do so again.
Once more, the gardener placed a gentle fertilizer around the roots, and watered daily. She reminded the lilac how much she was loved. And again, the lilac began to thrive. This time, she not only popped out fat buds on her branches; she also sent up new shoots around her base.
More seasons passed—five summers, autumns, winters, and springs. Her leaves became bigger, her branches taller. The gardener didn’t mention blooms any more. All she said was, “Thank you for growing here. You are such a beautiful bush.”
It was the fifth spring after her second transplant that the lilac noticed a different kind of tingling warmth in her branches. It wasn’t unpleasant, but neither was it familiar. It was life force in a different way … awakening a distant memory. Could it be? She felt deep into the soil with her roots, soaking in all the nutrients and moisture she could find. It was an exceptionally sunny spring, so she unfurled her leaves early to catch the precious warmth.
She waited for the gardener to notice.
And then it happened.
“Oh you did it, you gorgeous, beautiful, beloved bush! Look at all those amazing blooms!” The gardener laughed aloud, and called her loved ones to come witness the miracle.
The lilac stood tall, her huge bunches of flowers held upright as gift to the one who had loved her back to life. “My gift to you, dear gardener,” she whispered, not knowing if the gardener could hear, but pretty sure she would sense the message. “Thank you for loving me back to beauty.”
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