I love how each day is already planned out for us, but it’s often our plans that get in the way. I heard a story years ago and can recall snippets, but don’t quote me on this.

When we get to heaven, we each have our own space with some of our favorite things. A woman steps into a room and there were floor to ceiling shelves covering every wall holding what looked to be wrapped gifts. She looked puzzled and turned to God to ask, “Are those presents?” He replied, “Yes. Those are all the gifts I tried giving you during your time on earth, but you walked right by them.”

I made a big mistake WP family. I allowed work to seep into my mornings and hadn’t gone for a walk in over a week. This morning, I knew I should go, but didn’t want to, so my inner child piped up with, “Go throw some clothes on, snap on your Fitbit and step onto the porch. I dare you to not start walking.” That worked. The air was cool with a slight breeze, and thirty minutes later I began feeling like Barb again.

Then, I noticed a plant I’d been a little overzealous with in planting outside. This was the Shrimp plant that I’ve been bringing inside during the winter for years and it was actually starting to bloom while sitting indoors, but where I hung it outside it was getting way too much sun and looked miserable. After my walk I stepped into the backyard, took it down from it’s hook and sat it in the shade.

You could almost hear the plant give a sigh of relief.

That’s when I realized, for the last few days, after letting the dogs out in the morning, I hadn’t stepped outside onto the deck with them. Waking up with a mind filled with unresolved technical issues we’ve been having at work has been distracting. I sat on my bench to just take in everything around me. There was a small tree in a pot sitting in front of me that looked dead, even though I knew it wasn’t. It just wasn’t ready to wakeup from it’s winter slumber, or maybe trees don’t belong in pots.

I took the tree in it’s pot through the gate out front near the other trees. Grabbed my shovel, dug a shallow hole, gently pulled him from the pot and sat him in the dirt. As I poured fresh potting soil around the base, I gently pressed the dirt down with my hands and said, “This is where you belong. In the ground with the other trees.”

Will the little tree be happy there? Time will tell, but we’ve been on this earth long enough to know what we need and the little rituals we do that fill us up.

As I finish writing this it’s still morning and I’ve had my time on the deck with the dogs. I saw my first hummingbird of the season and I’m still wearing my writing robe, so work hasn’t crossed my mind. We know lovelies, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to get to heaven and see a room full of unopened gifts.

Slow our flow and go where we know.