The Lesson of the Fern

Many funny stories at our home involve my lack of gardening skills. In my family, it is common knowledge that I fail to have a green thumb. While my husband and daughter have the gardening gene infused into their DNA, I am lucky if my feeble attempts at horticulture keep most houseplants alive for a short period of time.

My fern was no exception.

Several years ago, I purchased a beautiful lush fern around Memorial Day. What can I say- I was romanced by the sheer charm of the healthy green that cascaded from the container. Without hesitation, I took the plant home.

I told myself that, of course, I could nurture this magnificent fern. After all, how hard could it be? I put the potted beauty on my patio and enjoyed a relatively happy summer with my new success.

But then winter came. I moved the fern inside and tried to find just the right spot for my hot weather friend to survive the cold. Slowly, the fullness left the container and the color seemed to leach out of the dwindling fronds. No matter what I did, the entire pot looked less and less happy as the weeks turned into months.

My daughter came to visit in March and shook her head at the sight of my failure.

“It’s a goner,” she concluded. “Hit the trash with that thing. There’s only a tiny bit of life left, and just no way it can survive.”

I usually take my daughter’s advice. After all, she can grow vegetation out of almost nothing, but for some reason, I hesitated. My attachment was just too great for the resignation of the landfill.

When my daughter left, I looked at the fern and made a decision.

“Live or die, it’s up to you,” I told the fern as I put plant food and water into the container for the umpteenth time. “From now on, you are on the patio and your survival is out of my hands. I will give you what I can, but just try to live.” (I even added the perfect pun. “Remember, I’m rooting for you.”)

Nothing happened for a while, but slowly, the fern started to sprout and grow, By the middle of the summer, the entire container was once again on its way to being the exquisite looker that I fell in love with at the nursery.

So what is the lesson? Sometimes, we all need just the right combination of things to thrive. If we have enough of the good elements, then flourishing is so much easier.

When you see someone that is struggling, remember to be their sunshine. Feel free to offer them good gifts and then cheer them on to life. They may just need a bit more help so they can return to the fullness that they were created to display.