By Rachel Meeker 
Believe it or not, this plant is a baby rosebush. It was given to my mother at my baby shower over 30 years ago. For most of my life, my mom took care of it. It moved with us whenever we did, and she always made sure it was planted at the new house, safe and sound. She watered it, fed it, and pruned it. The rosebush was finally given to me when my mom moved across the country with the rest of my family, as she didn’t know how it would handle the move. Since then, I have also moved across the country and gotten it here safe and sound. I have moved several times and have transplanted it every time.
This little plant has thrived in the ground and a pot; in good soil and rocky soil; in the arid heat and freezing winter; in the humid summer and snowy winter. All the while, growing and blooming. I carefully pulled weeds and made sure it had enough water. I covered it in the winter and fed it rose food in the spring.
Until one day, I didn’t.
My life had become so busy and my mind so overwhelmed that I kept putting off taking care of this dear plant. Another day passed, then another, then another. Eventually, the garden in which it was planted became so overgrown that I could no longer see the little rosebush. I assumed I had failed and that the plant would die because it was being overtaken by other plants and losing the competition for its necessary resources for life. But I didn’t check to see for myself, so there was still a chance it was alive in the tangle of plants.
Every time I walked past the garden, I kept myself from thinking about the poor plant I had failed to look after. I knew it was my fault the innocent plant didn’t make it, but as long as I didn’t look, I could convince myself it might still be in the jungle somewhere.
Then one day, I decided I needed to know for sure: did the rosebush survive, or did I kill it and fail miserably? I parted the tangle of plants and couldn’t find the rosebush. It had been lost to my neglect; it was my fault alone.
But then, I saw a single leaf I recognized at the end of one tiny green stalk coming out of the ground—that little rosebush had just barely survived, all on its own.
Now that I knew it was alive, I swore I would never forsake it again. That afternoon, I made it my mission to transplant it to a large pot with good soil and food, away from the jungle of a garden that would overtake it. After time and care, that little rosebush became a new iteration of its former self, blossoms and all.
This tale of surviving versus living is a lesson we can all benefit from. You see, that plant survived all kinds of environments and circumstances. It adapted to various stages and phases because it had the support it needed; it only withered away when it was no longer cared for or loved. While it was receiving care and affection, it lived. But when it was neglected and forced to take care of itself with no resources or support, it merely survived. In the same way, we cannot expect ourselves or each other to thrive without proper support, whether that be emotional and mental support, or support of someone’s time. And this support will look different for everyone, but it is vital for all.
That rosebush couldn’t reach out for help, but you and I can. It may not be easy. You feel the need to prove you can do it on your own, or are afraid no one will answer your call for aid, but it is necessary to reach out if you do not already have support.
It’s okay if you can’t do it on your own. You shouldn’t have to. God created us to be in communion with Him and His creation. Jesus is there to talk to and offers spiritual, emotional, and mental support. He will never leave you nor forsake you. He will always listen and loves more than anyone else ever could. When you feel the least supported, He is there with the support you desperately need.
And just like that rosebush, we’re meant to thrive, not just survive.
by Allison Graber 
by HVFH Contributor 
