The Marriage Plant
I brought home a tiny arrowhead vine, a simple gift for Michelle. A plain wicker pot. A delicate stem tied to a fraying hemp stake. We tried keeping houseplants when we were younger. They came, they wilted, they left.
Michelle called it the marriage plant. I find her carefully untangling the vines, pruning the interwoven tendrils, guiding drooping offshoots to their anchor on the trellis. She propagates new plants, sharing her gift with friends. She tends. She nurtures. She invests.
I barely noticed it until Michelle asked me to help move it. The new plant stood as tall as I do. She repotted it. She replaced the little stake with a trellis, tall and sturdy, built to hold the weight of growing life. The gift stretched toward the light, thickened with time, and buried its roots beneath the surface.
The marriage plant thrived while three cats stalked the countertops, two toddlers crashed into the furniture, and a forty-five-pound dog turned corridors into racetracks. Life doesn't just ensue around the marriage plant; it collides with it. The pot has toppled over. The trellis has ripped up roots while being adjusted.
Against the odds, the marriage plant stands. Still. Steady. Rooted.
I've watched its leaves, torn from the stem, hold on for days - still green. The moment they're severed, death is already at work. The edges curl. The color fades. What once was waxy and firm crumbles to my touch.
Couples have left our home with propagations and clippings from our marriage plant. A living reminder for those we've tried to invest ourselves into that strength doesn't come from the size of the plant but from staying rooted.
Jesus said, "Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me" (John 15:4).
Culture says, "Strive!" Jesus didn't teach his disciples they needed willpower, determination, or grit. He taught them they needed connection.
God did not design us to flourish alone. At first, isolation doesn't look like death. We keep moving, keep showing up, keep pretending. The branch withers all the same.
When we stay connected - when we live in the community of a local church - when we are tended to and cared for, we continue to grow, endure, and thrive. We were made to grow together - rooted in Christ, anchored in community, tended by love.
