From my August 2026 journal.
Good morning, Lord. How are you?
I am sure there is a lesson in building these planter boxes.
There always is.
ChatGPT gave me the initial design, which, of course, I changed because I didn't think it was going to be sturdy enough.
I built part of it.
Took it apart.
Built it again.
Changed the design.
Then I took the whole thing apart one more time.
And then it sat in my wood shop for weeks.
Every day I'd come home thinking, Today is the day.
But Mississippi had other plans.
At four o'clock in the afternoon, that garage is about the closest thing to the surface of the sun I've ever experienced.
So the planter waited.
The flowers, unfortunately, did not.
They had been delivered weeks earlier, and I tried my best to keep them alive while I finished the box that was supposed to hold them.
I even bought more flowers because, frankly, I didn't have much faith in the tiny little ones that came in the mail.
A few of them may not have made it.
We'll see.
Finally, the planter was finished.
The flowers were planted.
The dirt was shoveled in.
Although I think it probably needed another bag.
I also might have put a few plants in the wrong place. Only time would tell.
And that's when it hit me.
For weeks, all I could think about was building the planter.
Making it stronger.
Changing the design.
Getting everything just right.
But the planter was never the point.
The flowers were.
The planter simply creates the place where something beautiful has the opportunity to grow.
Now we wait.
To see what dies.
What wasn't meant to grow there.
What flourishes.
Please let the torenia flourish. It's my favorite.
We wait to see what needs another scoop of dirt.
What needs more water.
What needs to be moved.
What needs to be pruned.
What needs to be ripped out entirely.
And I couldn't help but think that maybe that's exactly what You do with us.
You build us.
You strengthen us.
Sometimes You take us apart so You can put us back together stronger.
Sometimes You move us because where we are isn't where we'll flourish.
You plant things in our hearts.
And if I'm honest, so do we.
Some things we plant produce peace.
Some produce bitterness.
Some produce joy.
Some produce fear.
Only time reveals what has really taken root.
And only You know what needs to be pruned,
what needs to be moved,
and what simply needs a little more time.
The planter is finished.
The work, however, isn't.
Now we wait.
But for today, the flowers can rest.
And so can I.
Love You.
